ABBOTT LABO RATORI E S
Sroudly
dlv n
resents to
this sfeeiai edition of
Men\X/(thout Guns
* -r ^
THE ABBOTT COLLECTION OF PAINTINGS
OF ARMY MEDICINE
POST LIBRARY
FORT MONMOUTH. N. J.
ENTERED ON ACTIVE DUTY:
(date)
(flack)
rank:
ASN:
PRINCIPAL ASSIGNMENTS IN ARMY, CHANGES IN RANK AND DECORATIONS
STATION
LOCATION
PRINCIPAL DUTIES, PRO'
MOTIONS, 6? DECORATIONS
FROM
TO
RELIEVED PROM ACTIVE DUTY:
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.^"
MEN
WITHOUT GUNS
THE MAN WITHOUT A GUN— Lawrence Beall Smith
MEN
WITHOUT GUNS
Text by
DeWITT MACKENZIE
War Analyst of The Associated Press
Descriptive Captions by -.
Major CLARENCE WORDEN
Medical Department of the United States Army
Foreword by
Major General NORMAN T. KIRK .
Surgeon General of the United States Army
ILLUSTRATED WITH 137 PLATES FROM THE ABBOTT
COLLECTION OF PAINTINGS OWNED BY THE UNITED
STATES GOVERNMENT
Philadelphia THE BLAKISTON COMPANY Toronto
1943
TEXT
COPYRIGHT. 1945
BY THE BLAKISTON COMPANY
FIRST EDITION
PRINTED IN THE UNITEH STATES
BY
DAVIS, DELANF.Y. INC., NEW YORK
Contents
List of Tllustratioiis vii
Foreword i^
Tlio Snri»eoii General ami His Stnfl' xi
1 Introducing the Corpsman 1
2 Doctor to The Army 7
^ Southwest Pacific 12
4 Saipan 19
5 Italy 25
(! D-Day in Normandy '^2
7 Burma Road -8
S The Warrior Comes Homo 44
Paintings of "Men Without Guns" follow page 4H
Illustrations
JOHN STI'XAET CURRY
Front-Liiie Surg'ery Plate 6
Collecting Station Plate 7
FRED SHANE
Steel Coffin Pt-ate 8
Soup's On Plate 15
Time Out for Chow Plate 16
Hiding Out Plate 17
Quick Treatment Plate 18
manup:l tolegian
Laboratory Warfare Plate 28
KRNKST FTFNK
Lifo-GiviiiK Phiwma Plate 29
FRAXKLTN BOGGS
Jungle Trail Plate 30
Pjvacuatioii Uuder Firo Plate 31
Anopheles Home Front 1*i.ate 32
Battalion Aid Station 1»late .'«
Native Casualty Plate 34
Visiting Hour Plate 3;')
Pacific Black Diamonds Plate 3
Pill Call Plate 4
End of a Busy Day Plate 5
Jungle — Ally of the Enemy Pla te 1
Night Duty Plate 2
South Sea Island Paradise Plate 12
The American Way Plate 13
Up to Down Under Plate 14
Air Evacuation Plate 9
Return to the Golden Gale Plate 10
Race Against Death Platk 11
ROBERT BENNEY
Tank Ambulance at Saipan Plate 8
Flashlight Surgery in Saipan Plate 8
Self -Service in Saipan Plate 7'
Island Hospital Plate &
Just Off the Line Plate 8
Saipan Casualty Plate 8'
F^riend in Need Plate 8;
Shock Tent Plate 8l
Medical Supply Dump Plate 1 i
"Easy, Joe" Plate 2(
Sick Bay Pirate 2:
Pacific Bay Hospital Plate 2!
Saipan, July, 1944 Plate 2',
Jap Compound in Saipan Plate 2'
Train Pare Plate 3(
Short Cut to Life Plate 3:
Hospital Train Chef Plate 3!
Xight Rendezvous Plate 3!
Xight Vigil Plate 41
Coming Home Plate 4:
Climatic Casualty Plate 41
Double Deck of Aces Plate 9-
Waylaid Plate 9:
Men With God Plate 111
JOSEPH HIRSCH
After the Fascist Pair Plate Hi
Treating a Mule Plate 1 1
So What Plate 11,
Personal Magnetism Plate 10.
Hospital for Allied Wounded I*late 10'
High Visibility Wrap Plate 10
Field ExamJTiation Plate 11
Xight Shift Plate 12
JOSEPH niRSCll — Contimied
Front-Liiie Dentist Plate 121
Safe Platr 122
Paradise Xot Lost Platk 123
"War on Ty])hns Plate 124
Italian Rnsh Honr Plate 125
iledieal Tnyeiiuily Plate 126
Medieal Millinery Plate 127
Company in the Parlor Plate 128
All Aboard for Home Plate 129
Non-Combatant Plate 130
Nurse in Newfoundland Platk 93
LAWREX(M^: BKALL SMITH
The AVay Back Plate 94
Normandy Vietovy Carfro Plati-: 25
Sunday in Normandy Plate 26
Return Car^o Plate 27
The Quick and the Dead Plate 102
Tension at Dawn Plate 103
"Wounded Crew Member Plate 1 04
AVounded Aboard Plate 43
Death of a B-17 Plate 44
Return from Mission Plate 45
Hospital Bound Plate 4(J
Normandy Wash Plate 47
Fireside Comfort Plate 48
Snooker Platk 49
Xfess Call Plate 61
Amateur Kd^ar Bergen Pt^ate 62
HOWARD BAKR
Pack Train in China Plate 63
Dyins' Wounded Soldier Plate 64
China Life Line Plate 65
China Supply Rendezvous Plate 66
"Meat WaRon" Pool Plate 50
Burma Mud Plate 51
Ambuhuice, Jungle Style Plate 52
Scant Shelter Plate 53
Junf;le Cheater Plate 54
Field Hospital in Technicolor Plate 55
Moon-Li^ht in Burma Plate 56
Casualty (a) Plate 73
Casualty (b) Plate 74
Casualty (c) Plate 75
HOWARD BAKU — Continved
Casualty (d) Plate 76
Jung-le Hospital Plate 57
Artist's Model Platk 58
( )pen-Air Surgery Plate 59
Jungle Ward Plate 67
Jungle Operating Room Plate 68
Night Operations Plate 70
Pals Plate 71
Aid Station Platk 60
Friends Ambulance X'nil Plate 72
Tank Casualty Plate 69
Convalescents Pi,ate 77
Jungle Patient Plate 78
"Open Wide" Plate 87
J ungle Vet Plate 88
Over the Bumps Plate 89
Burma Air Ambulance Plate 90
Talking It Over Plate 95
FRANCIS CRISS
Making Typhoid Vaccine Platk 96
Shoulder Wheel Platk 97
PETKR BLUME
Fracture Ward Plate 98
MARION GREF.NWOOD
Neuro-Surgery Plate 99
Speeding Recover)- Plate 100
Beer for Two Plate 101
AVounded Boy Plate 108
The Dental Front Plate 109
Occupational Thera])\' Plate 110
Tjcg Work Plate 111
Wounded Man With Crutclies Plate 112
Head Wound Victim Plate 1 1 3
X-Ray of Head Before Operation Plate 114
Kxercise Period for Wounded Plate 131
Shoulder Wheel Plate 132
Standing-Up Exercises Plate 183
A Twist of the Wrist Plate 134
Whirlpool Bath Plate 135
GI Gutenberg Plate 136
Finger Exercise Plate 1 37
Fgreword
By Major General NORMAN T. KIRK, M.C., U.S.A.
The Surgeon General
i\lo ARTIST ever had a more worthy subject for his brush thau did the twelve
distinguished painters whose canvases on Army Medicine are reproduced in this
volume.
Unequivocally and without fear of contradiction, I say with pride and reverence
that one of the greatest contributions to victory has been made by the doctors, nurses
and enlisted men of the Army Medical Department. AVithout their tireless devotion
to duty, their courage and complete disregard for self -safety, the Medical Department
would not be able to point today to a record of achievement unmatched in the long
history of warfare.
Because of the heroism and skill of the men and women portrayed between the
covers of tliis book, countless thousands of our fighting men have survived wounds
that would have meant certain death in the last war. Their deeds on the battlefields,
in front-line medical units and in the great general hospitals have done much to
frustrate and discourage a murderous enemy intent upon destroyhig us with every
diabolically ingenious instrument of war he could devise.
This volume is titled ''Men Without Onus." It is a fitting name for a book that
tells the story of men and women who fight with surgical instruments and drugs —
penicillin, sulfa, plasma, atabrine and other life-saving medical agents.
The twelve distinguished artists who ha\-e produced this Abbott Collection of
Paintings of Army Medicine have told the story faithfully. Their paintings constitute
an authentic and valuable contemporary history of Army Medicine in the war and a
priceless archival treasure.
Some day, in all probability, tlie original paintings will hang proudly in our
nation's capital for all to see. Meanwhile, it is most gratifying to me and my associates
in the Medical Department that these paintings are here reproduced so that so many
of us can always have them with us in our homes.
This collection is an eloquent testimonial to the enterprise and foresight of
Lioulenant Colonel Howard F. Baer, MA.C, who conceived it, to Abbott Laboratories,
who sponsored it, to tlie War Department, which encouraged it. to Associated Ameri-
can Artists whose director, Mr. Reeves Lewenthal, supervised it and to Charles Do^nls
of Abbott Laboratories who has so ably brought it to the attention of the public. To
Mr. S. DeWitt Clough, President of Abbott, the Medical Department and the Surgeon
General, personally, are very grateful.
ihe Surgeon General and fiis Slajj
Seated, left to right
Brig. Gen. Raymond "W. Bliss, M.C.
Ool. James R. Hudiiall, M.O.
Brig. Gen. Fred W. Rankin, M.C.
Brig-. Gen. Rdward Reynolds, M.A.C.
Brig. Gen. Raymond A. Kelser, V.C.
Maj. Gen. Norman T. Kirk, M.C.
Maj. Gen. George V. Lull, M.C.
Standing, Jeff to right
Brig. Gen. Charles C. Ilillman, M.C.
Brig-. Gen. Hugh J. Morgan, M.C.
Col. Robert J. Carpenter, M.C.
Maj. Gen. Robert H. Mills, D.C.
Brig. Gen. James S. Simmons, M.C.
1
Introducing the Corpsman
It takes vast eourag'e for a fiji:htmg-man to go
into action.
He must have a stout heart who leaps from his
fox-hole with the hlood>' dawn of an offensive and
pushes forward in a storm of bullets, shells and
bombs until he eomes to close grips with the enemy;
or who races up from the sea through the minefield
of a landing-beach under a hurricane of fire ; or who
stands by his post as his slilp, with guns flaming,
drives her nose right into the crimsoning waters of
a beach-head; or yet who flies into action across a
flak-filled sky.
All this demands surjjassing heroism. But a very
special fortitude is needed by the man who goes
into battle as a noTi -combatant.
The tension of the man-at-arms is eased by the
very fact that his bi-ain is juggling with the life-or-
death problems of offense and defense, and because
his hands are occupied with the use of his weapons.
Fear gives way to the hot spirit of strife.
It's a wholly different proposition for the non-
combatant, however. He is beset by all the anxiety
of the soldier — more, for that matter, because he
likely hasn't even a club with which to defend him-
self — and lacks the relief which comes from having
hia mind engaged with battle.
These unarmed forces — trained to defend them-
selves with their bare hands in emergency — form a
vital part of Uncle Sam's mighty fighting-machine.
They are the paradox of war, for their mission is to
save human life, and not to take it. This labor of
devotion they perform with few headlines, though
their deeds are epic.
It is largely with these unsung heroes that this
story deals, and so without further preliminary I
give you the United Slates Army Medical Depart-
ment — Men Without Guns.
Of course this great non-combatant organization
comprises many different elements, just as does the
army. There are the men who actually go into battle
with the troops and rush to the thick of the fray at
the call of help from the wounded. There are the
corpsmen who in an emergency may operate on an
injured man in a fox-hole under heavy fire. There
are the surgeons and doctors who labor to the point
of utter exhaustion about the operathig tables of
stations which are under bombing and shell-fire in
the forward areas. There are nurses who work in
constant danger of death. And then there are others
who risk their lives no less certainly in fighting the
terrible diseases which plague the steaming, stink-
ing jungles and other primeval sections of our globe.
Those are the sensational aspects of the work —
the big thrills— but that's not the whole of it by a
long way. Just as the soldier on the firing line is
backed by the organization of the home-front, so
does the corpsman in action have behind him the
vast Army Medical Department over which presides
Surgeon General Norman T. Kirk in Washington.
The thousand and one ramifications of this wonder-
fully synchronized medical machine are what make
possible the corpsman 's activities in the theatres
of war.
So this is neither solely a tale of heroic deeds —
though they figure largely in the saving of life — nor
is it a history of the Army Medical Department.
Rather it is an impressionistic report, done in pic-
tures and in words, of the magnificent service ren-
dered by the Departmeiit as a whole in the second
World War. Its primary object is to give to the folk
at home an account of how the health of their boys
in the far-away zones of conflict is safeguarded, and
of how those soldiers who have been hurt are cared
for.
Now it isn't the purpose either of the artists or
the writer to handle this story with gloves. There
will be many harsh things to see and reiid, for that
is war. It's no use for us to sit back home here in
comfort and security and not know the truth about
what our lads encounter.
There has been a disposition in some quarters to
shield the public from disturbing facts, but this
book has nothing to conceal. We take our lead from
Major General Kirk himself, for he has said:
"The American public should be told the truth
about what war does to fighting men. It should
know that some of our men are struck down by dis-
ease, that they lose arms or legs and that they come
home nervous invalids.
"The public should also know that in no war have
soldiers been given more scientific, painstaking med-
ical care and more human understanding. They will
coTitinue to get that care and understanding wher-
ever they are."
So, while the good news will far outweigh the
bad in this chronicle, you will be told the truth as we
know it. Some of it is mighty toiip;h to contemplate.
For example, here's an incident which was given me
by Major General George P. Lull, Deputy Surgeon
General of the Army Medical Department, while
we were chatting in his Washington office. The con-
versation had turned towai'd the courage of the corps-
man and his ingenuity in meeting unusual emergen-
cies, and I asked the General for a story to illustrate
these points. He looked at me speculatively for a
moment and then said in his direct manner of
speech :
"All right, I'll tell you a story. And it's one we
investigoted and confirmed."
He then related the experience of a battalion
surgeon in the Southwest Pacific. The Japanese had
swarmed down from strong points on a hill and
surrounded tlie battalion. One of our soldiers had
an ai-m so badly torn that amputation was neces-
sary. Here indeed was a case to test the nerve and
inventiveness of the surgeon, for not oidy was he
without instruments but the whole area in wliicb
they were surrounded was being swept by enemy
fire.
However, the doctor got his men into a fox-hole,
and then hunted about for some sort of instrument.
The only thing he could find was an ax, but that
didn't stop liim, for a life was at stake. He sterilized
the ax with hot alcohol, gave the wounded soldier
ether — and then removed the arm while bullets and
pieces of shell screamed over his fox-hole operating
room.
Three days later the battalion was relieved, and
the soldier's hfe was saved!
Then there was a somewhat similar case which
was carried by the press out of Bougainville, in the
Solomon Islands. This concerned a medical corps
major who amputated both legs of a wounded man
with a hunting knife under fire. I'm not going to
name the major here, for it hardly seems fair to
the thousands of other Medical Corps officers who
have performed equally heroic tasks. But let the
sergeant who had a hand in the ease tell about it in
a soldier's blunt way:
"He (the Major) removed the left leg below the
knee and the right at the knee. It took two hours.
I gave plasma to that boy, who was conscious all
the time. He was awfully brave. He screamed just
a little when the Major cut, because he was in great
pain. But he took it very well. He was an ammuni-
tion carrier hit by a mortar."
However, these are merely by way of passing
illustration. We are getting ahead of our story a
bit, and we shall be dealing Avith plenty of the crudi-
ties of war in subse(iuent chapters. So let's return
to our muttons, as the Englishman says.
The idea of recording the work of the Army
]\redical Department in art really had its genesis
when Lt. Colonel Howard F. Baer, of the Medical
Administrative Corps, saw the new moon over his
left shoulder and made a mighty wish which came
true. The way of it was this:
One of Colonel Baer's great friends is another
Howaid Baer, the widely known artist. They aren't
relatives but the likeness of names is just a peculiar
coincidence which brought them together in the first
place. Well, back in May of '4'i Colonel Baer dis-
covered Artist Baer busy doing some ]')aintlngs for
a collection of naval aviation art which was being
created for the United States Navy as a gift by the
Abbott Laboratories, a large pharmaceutical supply
house in Chicago.
Eight there was where Colonel Baer made his big
wish. It was that the Army Medical Department
might be blessed with a similar project. One of his
m;iin reasons was that at this time a great deal of
publicity was being given to general war work, and
people were being urged to get out of non-essential
industries and take war jobs.
Naturally that didn't help employment in the
plants which were making medical supplies. In fact
it hurt, because it was difficult to prevent workers
who were making hypodermic needles, surgical in-
struments, surgical dressings, atabrine, and the hun-
dred and one other things urgently needed by the
Medical Department, from believing that much
greater service could be rendered by leaving these
jobs and taking others in plants manufacturing
bombs and like instruments of war.
Baer, the Colonel, talked the idea over with Baer,
the Artist, and the latter brought a third party into
the discussions — Reeves Lewenthal, president of tlie
Associated American Artists, who had much to do
with the Abbott prograni for the Navy. Tlie Colonel
raised with Lewenthal the question of whether it
would be possible to get someone to sponsor an
Army Medical Department project, and the upshot
was that Abbott offered to back this further under-
taking — a very costly affair, by the way. The ap-
proval of Sui'geon General Kirk was secured and
there was begun the great work which you see re-
corded in part in the pictures reproduced in this
book.
The plan was the most ambitious of its kind ever
carried out, for it covered not only Medical Depart-
ment activities of the home-front but reached into
Ihe fighting theatres of Europe, the Pacific, India,
Burma and China. Among the subjects dealt with
were the training of physicians and enlisted men in
the scliools at Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania, and
Camp Barkeley, Texas, among others; the produc-
tion of those all-important medical and surgical
supplies; the movement of men and supplies in
combat theatrc^s; tlie general Iiosjjitals, including
operative surgery, convalescence, and rehabilitation
and occupational therapy; the hospital ship; the
army nurse; aviation medicine; and, of coyrse, the
^rippini>- story of how the "Modieal Corps performed
its mission of mercy amidst the hell of the actual
battle zones.
Twelve American artists were selected to carry
out this prog-ram, and in lt>44 tliey produ(5ed a large
number of striking paintings and sketches out of
which was built the collection that Abbott Labora-
tories presented to the government. S. DoWitt
Clough, president of Abbott's and himself a patron
. of the arts, described the gift as '*a tribute to the
tremendous accomplishment of tlio Army Medical
Department in saving the lives of scores of thou-
sands of American soldiers who would be dead to-
day but for the vast improvement of medical serv-
ice in this over any previous war."
It is a remarkable thing that none of the artists
who went to tlie fighting fronts was killed or in-
jured, for all of them saw action. All were in the
midst of gunfire. Robert Benney, for instance, was
in the thick of the battle of Saipan. It's even more
remarkable that none of them suffered grave ill-
ness, although several were exposed to terrible
diseases. But let me introduce this gallant little
army, whose exploits and impressions comprise so
much of this book:
Howard Baer: — Assigned as an artist war-corre-
spondent to the Burma-India-China theatre, where
he produced fifty-five paintings and sketches.
Baer was born hi a little mining village near
Pittsburgh in 1907. He received his art education
at Carnegie Institution. You perhai)s know him as
cartoonist and illustrator for such magazines as
Esquire, the New Yorker and Colliers, for it wasn't
until 1941 that he finally gave way to a great urge
to paint. His assignment in the Orient took him into
the heart of the Burmese jungle where he was with
General Stilwell's forces and with Merrill's Ma-
rauders during the fighting to reoj^en the Burma
Road. He saw India and spent considerable time in
China with the Allied troops. Baer is represented
in the permanent collections of numerous museums,
including the iletropolitan.
Rohert 5(^77 jvc?/;— Assigned to the "Western Pa-
cific Theatre and did thirty-one paiiitings and
sketches.
Benney is a native Ncav Yorker and was born in
Brooklyn in 1904. Ho studied art at Cooper Union,
the Art Students League and the National Academy
of Design. His portraits of famous contemporary
American actors have been exhil)ited at the New
York Public Library and the Museum of the City
of New York. He first gave full time to painting in
1936-37 Avhile doing an extensive tour of the West
Indies and South America. The work which he pro-
duced during these travels, and on the Gaspe Pen-
insula, Canada, was shown at national art exhibi-
tions throughout the United States.
Peter Blume: — Assigned to do a painting at the
great Halloran General Hospital, on Staten Island,
New York.
Blume was boi-n in Russia in 1906 and was
brought to the United States when he was five years
old. He began art studios at the age of twelve in
public school night classes. Latei- he studied at the
lOducational Alliance Art School. In 1934 he received
the coveted Carnegie International Award, and was
one of the youngest American artists ever to get
tills honor. He also was given the Guggenheim Fel-
lowship, 1932-36. He is represented in the Metro-
politan Museum and in numerous others.
Franklin Bof/f/s: — Assigned to the Southwest Pa-
cific Theatre, l-^ighteen paintings and sketches.
Boggs was born in Warsaw, Indiana, thirty-one
years ago and alreatly has achieved an important
place in contemporary American painting. He was
awarded two European traveling scholarships from
the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, as well as
its fii-st foppan award in 1940. In 1940, too, the
Tennessee Valley Authority invited him to make
drawings and paintings which would depict the vast
conservation and power activities of this major
project for public information. His paintings have
been exhibited in many leading museums. During
his Pacific assignment lie witnessed four important
actions.
Howard Baer
Robert Benney
Peter Blume
i-'i-.uiklin Boggs
Francis 6'//.s,s'.-— Assigned to Army Medical Cen-
ter, Washington. Seven paintings.
Criss was born in London in 1901 but came to this
country as a child and his work has been closely
identified with Am((rica. He holds the unusual honor
of having won three major fellowships for the study
of painting — a four-year scholarship in the Penn-
sylvania Academy of Fine Arts, the Cressou Schol-
arship for study in Europe, and the Guggenheim
Fellowship for study abroad. He studied at the
Grapliie Sketch Club in Philadelphia, and later at
the Pennsylvania Academy of the 1^'ine Arts and at
the Art Students League in New York. Ho has been
given exhibitions both in this country and abroad by
important museums, many of which own his work,
as do several leading private collectors.
John Steuart Curry: — ^Assigned to the Army
Medical Department training school at Camp Barke-
ley, Texas. Twelve paintings.
Curry was born on a Kansas farm in 1897. By
the time he was thirty-one he had studied in several
art institutes both in America and abroad. He won
his first public recognition when his "Baptism in
Kansas" was shown at the Corcoran Gallery in
Washington. This picture later was acquired by the
Whitney Museum. He has murals in the Department
of Justice and Department of Interior buildings,
Washington, in the Kansas State Capitol and in
the University of Wisconsin. He is artist-in-resi-
dence at that university.
Ernest Fiene: — Assigned to plants of medical
industry on the home-front. Ten paintings.
Fiene was born in the Rhineland in 1894. In the
course of his studies he attended the National Acad-
emy of Design and the Art Students League. Twice
he returned to Furope for study, the first time in
France and England, and later on a Guggenheim
Fellowship for work in Italy. Fiene 's works have
won several prizes at maior exhibitions, and the
Metropolitan Museum of Art and numerous other
museums throughout the country own paintings by
him. He has murals in the Department of Interior
building, Washington, and in other cities.
Marion Greenwood: — Assigned to England Gen-
eral Hospital at Atlantic City, N. J., where men
wounded overseas are reconditioned. Twenty-four
paintings and sketches.
Miss Greenwood was horn in New York City in
1909 and comes from a family of artists. Her grand-
mother, her father and her sister, Grace, all are
painters and her brothers are commercial artists.
She studied at the Art Students League in New
York, at the Academic CoUarosi, Paris, and in
Mexico. When she was only twenty-throe she became
the first American woman to paint a mural for the
Mexican Government, and received public praise for
her work from former President Cardenas. Later
she did murals for Mexico City Civic ("enter, as
well as for buildings in various parts of the United
States. Miss Greenwood has exhibited her paintings
widely, and has lectured on painting at Columbia
and several other schools.
Joseph llirsch: — Assigned to the Mediterranean
Theatre, Italy. Twenty-two paintings and sketches.
Hirsch comes from Philadelphia, where he was
born in 1910. He has had a brilliant career and has
been showered with many lionors. He studied in the
Pennsylvania Museum School of Art, being gradu-
ated with two first prizes. Other awards include the
Woolley Fellowship by the Institute of Interna-
tional Education for travel in Europe, the Third
Hallgarten prize by the National Academy of De-
sign, the AValter Lippincott prize for the best figure
painthig in oil by an American at the Pennsylvania
Academy's Fine Arts Exhibition, and honorable
mention in the Prix de Rome competition. For a
year and a half Hirsch traveled through Italy,
Prance, Spain, Belgium, England, Holland, lOgypt,
Ceylon, China and Japan, studying the art of those
countries. His assignment in the Mediterranean
wasn't the first of its kind in the second World
War, for he previously had served as an artist war-
correspondent in the Pacific theatre. His work is
owned by leading museums.
Fred Shane: — Assigned to the Armv Medical De-
Francis Criss
John Steuart Curry
Ernest Fiene
Marion Greenwood
partment training school at Carlisle Barracks, Pa.
Fourteen paintings and sketches.
Shane was born in Kansas City in 1906. He stud-
ied at the Kansas Citv Art Institute, Cotorado
Springs Fine Art Center, and in Paris and New
York. He has been the winner of many prizes and
awards and his work is represented in museurns
and private collections throughout the country. His
honors include the winning of the MacMillan Pur-
chase Prize from St. Louis Cily Museum, the Byng
Memorial Purchase Prize from Springfield, ilo..
Museum, and mam- awards from Kansas City In-
stitute. He is a member of Missouri University
faculty.
Lawrence Beall Smith .-^-Ai^sigjied to the l^hiro-
pean Theatre — Ihigland and France. lOighteen
paintings and sketches.
Smith was born in Washington, D. C, in 1909.
He is a graduate of the University of Chicago and
received his early art training at the Art Inslitute
of Chicago. He has exliilnfod widely aiid his work
is hung in Harvard University and many other pub-
lic and private collections. His assignment in P'u-
rope included the coverage oi' D-Day, and lie went
into Normandy with oui- troops through a beach-
head. That wasn't his first experience with war,
however, for he liad done painting previously
aboard an aircraft carrier.
Manuel Tolegian: — Assigned to the Army Nurse
Corps training school at Camp White, Oregon. Ten
paintings and sketches.
Tolegian was born in 1911 in Fresno, California,
of Armenian i)arents who emigrated from Angora,
Turkey. His fatlier was a famous poet. Tolegian
was educated in the University of California and
then went to New York to study at Ihe Art Stu-
dents League.
Among his teachers was John Steuart Curry,
whom the reader already has met as one of the
artists who did paintings for this book. Tolegian 's
work is owned by leading museums, and Ihe late
President Franklin D. Roosevelt personally selected
a Tolegian picture for permanent hanging in the
White House. The youthful artist's gifts go outside
his painting, for he composed music in the Pulitzer
Prize-winniiig play. Time of Your Life, by Saroyan.
That completes the list of twelve artists who have
used their great talent to help us vivsualize some of
the marvels which arc performed for our fighting
men by the United States Army Medical Depart-
ment, and to depict the frequently terrible condi-
tions under which this service is rendered. Perhaps
the best way to describe the manifold activities of
the Department is to say that it is doctor, surgeon,
nurse and dentist to Uncle Sam's millions of sob
diers and airmen. And like the old-time general
practitioner in the country districts, it carries its
own equipment about witli it.
The Army Medical Departmonl supei'vises hun-
dreds of hospitals at home and abroad — erects many
of them, for that matter — and gives treatment to
thousands ui)on thousands. It's the largest medical
organization the United States ever has had.
The Department comprises (to give the approxi-
mate figures at the end of the European War) 45,-
000 doctors- — and there arc 83 women among them
for the first time in history; 15,000 dentists; 2,000
veterinarians; 2,000 sanitarians; 18,700 members of
the Medical A(hninistrative Corps; 61 pharmacists;
52,000 army nurses; 1,500 dietitians; 1,000 physical
therapists. All these are quite apart from hundreds
of thousands of enlisted men who are serving as
litter bearers and in iirst-aid work.
**jMedical men follow the soldier and guard his
health from the time he is inducted into the army
until he is discharged," to use the language of the
Department, ''and even after he returns to civilian
life he is watched and cared for by other govern-
ment health agencies. Our armed forces are fighting
all over the world, in every kind of climate — from
the trojjics to the Arctic. They have lived and are
living among primitive peoxjles and have been ex-
posed to every known disease under the most diflS-
cult field conditions. They have suffered every type
of battle wound.
Joseph Hirsch
Fred Shane
Lawrence Beall Smith
-Maiic^i l\jIcL'i,ii
"Yet, in spite of those handicaps, nearly 97 per
cent of the wounded who roaeh hospitals live; and
the disease rate in the array is only one-twonlicth
as high as it was in the last war — the lowest ever
recorded in the army^ — -while the health of soldiers
in Ihe field is j^enerally better than that of civil-
ians."
Jnst think of it — all hut llirce per cent of the
wounded who roach hospitals live. This achievement
is all Ihe more remarkahle when one stops to con-
sider that it wasn't until our American Civil "War
that methods wore devised for anything approach-
ing adequate evacuation and treatment of the
wounded during combat. And the death rate still
remained terribly heavy.
Up to about the seventeenth century the wounded
got little consideration in battle. The best they could
hope for — if they were too badly hurt to look after
themselves — ^^\'as that a comrade would put them out
of their misery with knife or bullet. Indeed, this dis-
patcliing of the wounded wasn't confined to that dis-
tant time, for in the last war the soldiers of some
conntries practiced it to a certain extent in eases
whore there was no hope for recovery of the
wounded man and ho was dying' in agouy. M('rcy
killing was what they called it.
These days things are different for, as Surgeon
General Kirk has said, "the survival rate am<mg
our wounded at the present time is higher than it
has ever been in any array in any war at any tirae."
In short, unless a man is killed outright, his chances
of coming through with his life are first class.
It mustn't be thought that these wonders are
wrought by our Array Medical Department without
hurt to itself. By the time the European war had
run its course, the cumulative casualties of the De-
partment, including all branches, had reached dis-
tressing totals. They were:
Killed in action — 3,061; wounded — 14,026; cap-
tured— 2,034; missing— 2,915.
The U. S. Army Medical Department was born
during the siege of Boston in 1775, when it was
created b\' the Congress uyion recommendation of
General George Washington. It was a small begin-
ning — the recogiiition of a need rather than the
provision of anything like adequate raeans to meet
it. The regulations governing the medical service
consisted mainly of an order to provide the wounded
and sick with fresh straw upon which to lie. Still
it was a start, and it has grown with experiences
which have ranged from dealing with wounds in-
flicted by arrows and tomahawks to meeting the
problems of the modern high explosive.
The first army hospitalization installation also
was made at the request of General Washington.
Several large private homes were used for the sick
and wounded from the battlefields. The Congress
further provided for a matron "to supervise the
nurses, bedding, and so forth," and nurses "to at-
tend the sick and obey the matron's orders." Thus
was begun our Army Nurse Corps, of which Sur-
geon General Kirk has said:
"Tlie Army Nurse is the Army Doctor's right
hand. Without her the present high standard of
health among our soldiers, and the gratifying per-
centage of recovery of battle casualties, would be
impossible."
2
Doctor to the Army
aui-fj-eoii General Xoi'inau T. Kirk is a straight-
backed, wiry concentration of skill, initiative and
uTil)ounded energy, as befits his great position as
head of the organization which looks after the phys-
ical and mental weli-beiug of Uncle Sam's millions
of soldiers. Upon lilm. In the long run, rests the re-
sponsibility for everytliing from a pin-scratch to a
terrible shell wound, from heat-rasli to typhus, from
an imaginary i)ain to the nervous disorder which
we know as psychoneurosis.
At fifty-seven he is as tit as he was when he had
the time for his favorile game of polo. ?Ie always
was a hard- riding, give- 'em-liell player, putting into
that strenuous sport everything he had, just as he
now flings every ounce of his vast energy into his
job. He's a fisherman, too, and his ability in other
pursuits extends to that, for he actually brings them
home. But if you want to know just how alert and
skillful he can be, sit in at a poker game with him —
but don't let yourself drowse.
Tlicy say General Kirk is tough, but T didn't size
him up that way. True, he knows what he wants, and
he wants what he wants when he wants it. He's effi-
cient himself and demands efficiency in others. He
knows wliat sort of service he ought to get from
his subordinates, too, for he's done most of the jobs
they do — and done them supremely well.
r wouldn't want to be the subordinate to fail
through inefficiency in carrying out one of his or-
ders. But if I needed a friend 1 should turn to him,
for no man with those tiny wrinkles of good nature
about his eyes, and the frequent quirk of humor at
the corners of his mouth, can really be tough. Any-
way, General Kirk greeted me at our first meeting
in his private office in Washington with an agree-
able smile as he shook hands warmly, and he (lor-
.mittcd me to l)e the judge of how much of his
valuable time I should take. He answered all ray
questions freely in concise, close-clipped sentences
which are characteristic of the maii. He doesn't
waste v.'ords.
General Kirk believes that, due to the pressure
of war, medical science has progressed fifteen years
since the conflict began.
"This war has been a great boon to medichie, "
he declared.
That might well be taken as the theme for any
review of the achievements of the Army Medical
Department. The advance in medicine and surgery
is one of the marvels of all time.
Our greatest emergency was wh;'n the war
started. For instance, we had few surgical instru-
ra(^nts, the most of which were made in Germany.
Thus supplies became an urgent problem, and man-
ufactories had to be started. Another difficulty was
personnel- — to get enough doctors. We expanded
from 1,200 to T2,00()— and finally to close to 50,000
at the peak. We got the best surgeons in the world
from civil life, and put them in uniform. The dental
corps was increased from a mere 300 to some 15,000,
and the number of nurses was jumped from 1,000 to
well over 50,000. And so it goes, but we have time
for only a thumb-nail sketch here.
I asked General Kirk to name the first three of
the war's outstanding innovations, and without hesi-
tation he shot back;
"Surgery, the sulfa drugs and penicillin. Sur-
gery is Xumber One. It isn't drugs that save lives;
it's surgery. Drugs supplement the surgery."
Penicillin and the sulfa drugs have reduced the
death rnXv from piieunionia from 24 per cent in the
hist war to 6 per cent in this. Tu the treatment of
venereal disease penicillin is performing wonders.
Syphilis can uoav be cured in a matter of days in-
stead of months. Gonorrhea can be cured in days
instead of weeks.
The General was quick to add other items of out-
standing achievement. Ranking high, of course, is
plasma, which has so greatly reduced fatalities by
overcoming the wound shock that may cause death
unless it is dealt with immediately.
Another first-line drug is atabrine, which is better
for malaria than is quinine, and has largely re-
placed tlie latter drug.
"We've got malaria licked," said the Surgeon
General with satisfaction, "and malaria was a worse
enemy than the Japs."
Then, of course, there is the new magic insecti-
cide, DDT. This has proved to be an amazingly
effective agent in controlling mosquitoes, which
carry malaria and other diseases; the fly and other
insects which are distributors of dysentery; the
common louse, which spreads typhus, the scourge
of former wars.
The wonders of DDT were well illustrated in
Naples, Italy, where a threatened epidemic of ty-
phus was prevented. Its use iu Kurope and the
Balkans is estimated to have saved millions of lives.
It was a godsend to the Pacific theatre, too, wliere
islands like Saipan, which wore a mass of flies and
mosquitoes, were quickly freed of these carriers of
death.
Now when we list all the achievements of the
Army Medical Department we are thinking- in terms
of its two most important functions in wartime —
the treatment and evacuation of the wounded. You
have to move fast, you know, if you arc going to
save the life of the soldier who has been struck
down on the battlefield. Prompt medical care by
highly skilled specialists, together with mobility of
medical services in the field (especially evacuation
services), contributed to tlie low mortality rate of
only three per cent among- the wounded rcaching
surgical treatment, as against 8.1 per cent in World
War I.
How treatment and evacuation combine into a
nearly perfect service may best be understood by
following an injured soldier through what would be
the "normal" chain if everything went according to
the book. This would seem to be a good time for the
reader to take the trip. It is here that the "Men
Without Guns" play such a great part, and w^o
shall be seeing much of their activities just as soon
as we hit the battle zones.
Wlien we speak of the "normal" chain, it must
be understood that in actual combat virtually overv-
thing is more nearly the opposite of normal. This
provides the basis for the soldier's odd term of
"Snafu," which is the alphabetical contraction for
"Situation normal, all foaled up." So, as the Medi-
cal Department points out, this "normal" chain is
subject to modification at every link to suit the
situation. It represents the planned, ideal way of
handling the wounded, and is follow^ed as closely as
circumstances permit.
The first step when a soldier gets wounded is for
him to give himself first aid if he can — and most
times he can. Every fighting man is trained in first-
aid principles, and he carries with him in battle all
the things he may need in such emergency.
Next the wounded man makes his way back lo the
battalion aid station, which usually isn't more than
a few hundred yards from the front line. If he is
hurt so badly that he can't help himself, there are
medical aid men nearby to administer first aid and
carry him to the station. The Department states
that a survey made during operations in France
revealed that the wounded received aid "right
away," the unanimity of that answer making it diffi-
cult to fix an average for the time elapsed between
behig hit and receiving first medical aid.
The medical soldiers, generally known as "med-
ics," remove the Avoundod to protective covering,
give what help they can and then attract the atten-
tion of litter bearers before moving on with advanc-
ing troops. This first emergency treatment usually
consists of giving sulfa drugs or morphine, dress-
ing the Avound to prevent hemorrhage, applying
splints for fractures, or making tourniquets. Blood
plasma is given.
Here I want to break our chain for a moment to
tell a little story emphasizing the ubiquity and brav-
ei-y of the corpsman — that he is indeed on the job
unless he himself has been stricken, and that the
wounded soldier does get help "right away." This
incident involved my colleague John Moroso, Svd,
Associated Press war correspondent.
It was the beginning of the Alhed invasion of
Sicily— July 9, 1943. In the pre-dawn darkness Mo-
roso was sw^immiug ashore through a storm-swept
sea after his landing craft had been wrecked, when
he heard a call for aid from the nearby water. The
appeal came from an American lieutenant who was
diiftiiig helplessly in the waves because of a terribly
shattered leg which had been broken as he was
leaving his landing craft.
Moroso towed the injured officer up onto the
beach-head. Then, in violation of orders forbidding
any shouting by the invading forces, the corre-
spoiulent yelled into the dark: "Medic! Medic!"
Immediately not one but two corpsmen material-
ized from the inky blackness and took charge. The
beach-head was being swept by enemy fire, and the
ocean spray was pouring over them, but they w^ent
to w^ork. Proceeding without light — since it was
strictly forbidden to show any — they set the lieu-
tenant's leg and put sphnts on it. Mind you, all
this was done by sense of touch, with an oxpertness
acquired from being trained to work in the dark.
Then they got their man to a small boat which took
him to the assault transport Thomas Jefferson. And
a doctor said the leg couldn't have been sot better
aboard the ship.
You can't beat that very mucli for getting aid
"right away."
While we are on the subject of the first-aid man,
there's one very intimate thought which I should
bke to give you here in passing. You'll find it re-
curring time and again as our story unrolls. The
corpsman on the firing line is many things beside
first aid to the badly Avounded man.
You get the feel of it Avben you see the boy Avho
is injured clinging to his helper for comfort— like
a kid turning to his mother when he has been hurt.
And you get it even more poignantly when, in the
great emergency, you see the corpsman kneeling
and saying a prayer as the GI slips away on his
last journey.
But to get back to our Avounded man who is going
Ihrough the chain from the battlefield. After the
first-aid treatment, the litter bearers carry him to
the battalion aid station. Much of this litter work is
done under fire. At the battalion aid station doctors
take charge and decide whether he shall be returned
to combat or moved along- the chain of evacuation
to (lie collectinj^ station. I1i his injuries are minor he
is jciveri further treatment, a rest, and is returned
to the front. If ho needs more treatment he is moved
by ambulance, jeep or litter to the collecting- station,
which may be a few hundred or several thousand
yards from the front.
If the wounded man still requires treatment he
next is passed on lo the clearing station, which is
a temporary but well-equipped hospital. Here he
may remain several days until he can be moved
again, either back to the front or to the next medi-
cal stop. These clearing stations usually are oper-
ated in pairs so that they can leap-frog to keep up
with the advancing troops. Normally each is stniTed
by 12 doctors and 9() enlisted men.
Some 12 to 15 miles to the rear — in some cases
as much as 50 miles — is the evacuation hospital
to which the wounded man goes from the clearing
station. This evacuation hospital is provided with
all the equipment of a modern hospital, and here
major medical or surgical needs are attended to.
The next big link in the chain is a general hos-
pital. This is a fixed installation providing general
medical and surgical care. From the general hos-
pital our man goes to an embarkation hospital, and
is moved by hospilal-ship or hospitahplane to the
homeland. There he is landed at a debarkation hos-
pital where he remains only long enough to be
routed to an appropriate general hospital — as near
his home as possible.
Then his treatment and rehabilitation are carried
on to fit him for liis re-entry into civilian life. All
the skill which the medical profession and makers
of surgical appliances have learned in this war is
brought into play to restore our wounded man as
near to normal as is humanly possible. But more
of this period of rehabilitation in a later chapter.
It will be clear that these many services — from
the firing line to the general hospital at home —
reqnire a vast business organization to handle the
supply of medical and technical personnel and of
equipment and drugs. Here is where Deputy Sur-
geon General Lull takes the stage.
General Lull, like General Kirk, is efficient. On
his broad shoulders falls the mountainous task of
procurement of personnel and supplies, and the
building and equipment of hospitals. It's his husl-
iiesR, too, to keep the service nround the world in-
formed of new overall jjolicies for treatment of
patients.
The story of medical supplies is in itself one of
the groat chapters of the war history. Just as mili-
tary strategy tries to leave nothing to chance, so
the Medical Department specifies, tests, buys, stores.
and ships all over the world Imndreds of thousands
of items in anticipation of needs.
The Department states that for medical supplies
and equipment alone, the Service Forces spent $802,-
803,929 in the fiscal years 1943 and 1944. That fig-
ure doesn't include the cost of maintenance, trans-
portation and operations. All told, the Department
buys about 12,000 different items, and these range
from surgical instruments and drugs to prefabri-
cated buildings.
A sensational example of the gigantic propor-
tions of the sux)ply and personnel problem is seen
in preparations for care of the wounded on Nor-
niftndy D-Day, June 6, 1944. Of course, Heaven was
good to us and our casualties were far less than had
Iteen prepared for, but here is the way the Medical
Department was set for this great adventure as the
result of many months of labor:
Fixed hospital beds to the astonishing number of
i>7,4{)0 were ready in Army hospitals in Fngland,
and provision was made for nccommodalion of 19(),-
000 patients by full use of previously surveyed
locations of hospital units. Tliese could have been
statfcd with doctors — including such specialists as
internists, surgeons, psycliialrists, radiologists and
ortliopedic surgeons^nurses and enlisted personnel
williin 24 hours if the emergency required.
Only necessary beach installations and port con-
struction to insure the flow of supplies into the zone
of operations took precedence over care of the
wounded. Hospitals had iirsl priority in constnie-
tion work.
If casualties had exceeded expectations, pUins
were made for evacuation from the United King-
dom by air and ship to the United States.
There were waiting in Fngland— not including
staffs of battalion aid stations, collecting stations
and evacuation hospitals to be landed in Furope —
8,000 doctors, more than 10,000 nurses, 1,600 den-
tists and more than 100,000 trained medical and
surgical technicians ready to take care of the
wounded.
The following supplies were stored and ready for
use: 800,000 pints of blood plasma; 600,000 doses of
penicillin with 600,000 more ready for shipment in
July; 10,000 pounds of sulfa drugs; 650,000 mor-
phine syrettes (Vi; grain each); adequate supi)lies
of anesthetics; more than 2,000,000 surgical instru-
ments; 2,000 doses of tetanus toxoid (for booster
shots following a wound), and 8,000,000 first-;ild
packets.
Fifteen hospital ships, not including LST's and
other small craft, w^ere used in surface evacuation
from France to England. As soon as air strips were
secured, fifty planes, each capable of carrying eight-
een patients, began shuttle service for the wounded
across the Channel.
You'd tliink lliat such a mighly undertaking, the
greatest of Its kind ever envisaged, represented the
last word in complexity, but the problems of pro-
viding the best and swiftest medical care for our
men in the Pacific tlieatres of combat were even
more difficult. There hospitals had to be transported
much greater distances by water, and then over-
land by trucks.
Operating rooms for such theatres are on wheels.
Specially constructed hospitals, dismantled and-
packed so they can he carried on men's backs, arc
quickly reassembled and set up wherever a site is
found. The wounded are evacuated mostly by air
because there are no roads and most transportation
is done with oxen and mules.
Virtually all supplies also are brought in by air to
the jungle zones of combat. Evacuation hospitals
usually are set up right on the beaches.
These are just a few of 1lie high-spots in the
amazing story of the Army Medical Department's
achievement in providing the multiplicity of sup-
plies needed for the care of our fighting men — by
far the best care the world ever has known. One
could fill a library with the details, but we must
hasten to the actual battlefields. Before we embark
on this adventure, however, there is one more de-
partment which the reader should meet^the great
Army Nurse Corps.
All nurses in the Army now are Army nurses —
members of the Army Nurse Corps — having the
status of officers. The Second World War has taken
them to service in every part of the globe, and they
have made a glorious record of devotion and hero-
ism. They have carried their life-saving from Ice-
land to the steaming jungles. They have followed
our troops onto beach-heads within a matter of
hours after the invasion. Some of those brave girls
have been killed, some wounded, some captured, and
some of them are missing. They have kept their
bond, which is the pledge of the Army Nurse :
"As an Army nurse I accept the responsibilities
of an officer in the Army Nurse Corps.
"I shall give faithful care to the men who fight
for the freedom of this Country and to the women
who stand behind them.
"I shall bring to the American soldier, wherever
he may bo, the best of my know^ledge and profes-
sional skill.
"I shall approach him cheerfully at all times,
under any conditions I may find.
"I shall endeavor to maintain the highest nursing
standards possible in the performance of my duties.
"I shall appear fearless in the presence of danger
and quiet the fears of others to the best of my
ability.
"My only criticism shall be constructive. The
reputation and good name of the Army Nurse Corps
and of the nursing profession shall be uppermost In
my thoughts, second only to the care of my patients.
"I shall endeavor to be a ci'edit to my Country
and to the uniform I wear."
The Superintendent of the Army Nurse Corps is
Colonel Florence Blanchfield, one of the remarkable
women of our time — the right woman in the right
y)lace. In her tine eyes burns the idealism of the
nurse's pledge.
Her experience has been great, including eighteen
months as a nurse with American troops in Europe
durhig the first World War. In the Ilitlorian con-
flict she visited England, Belgium, France, flolland,
Luxemburg, Germany and Italy in pursuit of her
duties as head of the Nurse Corps. And she went
where she could see what was going on. She was in
Aachen, for instance, soon after that badly shat-
tered German city was cajjtured by our forces.
I found Colonel Blanchfield intensely interesting
as we talked in her office at Army Medical Depart-
ment headquarters. Here are some of the highlights
of what she told me :
"Our nurses are actuated by the ideal of service.
"There's no glamour about nursing. Unless you
want to help others and make sacrifices, you have no
right to be in nursing.
"A nurse must adapt herself to conditions on the
battle front. The type of work in this war is far
different from that of the last, and it calls for much
greater fortitude and sacrifice. In the first World
War the nurses were in the rear areas, but this con-
flict has demanded that medical installations move
with the army, so the nurses go up with the army.
"Some of the forward imrses are as far up as the
clearing stations (normally from four to seven miles
behind the front line and a highly dangerous posi-
tion). You have to care for your patient where he
is. lie can't be brought to the nurse.
"It has amazed folk that the nurses could adapt
themselves to such conditions. But not one nurse
complained to me when I was overseas. So long as
10
tUey are serving their patients, they are happy.
None of the girls in advance areas wanted to go back
to the rear echelons.
"Tills reaction is the outstanding point ol" the
Army Xurso Corps in the war.
"Every nurse is a volunteer. She is nursing be-
cause she wants to. AYoak spots showed up in train-
iiitV and were counted onl."
We were closing the interview when the Colonel
added a thought which shows her broad understand-
ing and her solicitude for the women under her.
"Don't forget the girls back home," she said.
"Nurses* services are equally important wherever
they are. They don't like to be idle. Those who are
serving at home rather than at the front are good
soldiers in every respect, adjusted to all situations.
"Work at home is just as important as at the
clearing station. There is the same consecration to
duty at home."
The signilieance of Colonel Blanchfield 's remark
that "weak spots showed up in training, and wore
counted out" is seen in the tough schooling the
girls get. This is well summed np by Artist Manuel
Tolegiau in his comment on the training which he
studied at Camp White, Medford, Oregon.
"The war consciousness superseded every other
consideration," he told mc. "This was war and the
training emphasized it at every turn."
Tolegian depicted these young women sweating-
it out under realistic combat conditions which in-
cluded all the difficulties and hardships of the front-
line. Certainly "weak spots" would show up under
this rigorous program if ever, but the artist found
seriousness and efficiency the outstanding ehai'acter-
istics.
This intensive training is, of course, typical of
the entire Army medical structure. The grilling of
officer-candidates, for examjjle, is a really terrific
test of physical stamina and ability to "take it."
That's very natural, for if competent medical of-
ficers could be created by the simple expedient of
putting uniforms on doctors, then there wouldn't
be any need of an elaborate Army Medical Depart-
ment. The medical officer is a specialist in the un-
usual emergencies which arise from war.
The Medical Department operates two principal
officer-candidate schools. One is the Army Service
Force Training Center, at Camp Barkeley, Texas,
and the other is the Medical Field Service, Carlisle
Barracks, Pa. Tliese schools resjjectively are dealt
with pictoriiilly in this book by Artists John Steuart
Curry and Fred Shane.
The primary quality sought among applicants in
these schools is proven leadership capacity, and the
training the>' get certainly brings out all their
capabilities. Students are put through all phases of
actual field operations, staged by bodies of regulars
which are stationed at the schools for that purpose.
Just as in actual battle, "wounded" men (labeled
according to their supposed condition) are picked
up, perhaps given "blood plasma" and "morphine,"
bandaged and rushed to the hospital. "Battles"
rage day and night, and often the corpsmen are
working in pitch dark.
There are "gas" attacks, and Fred Shane told me
that at Carlisle Barracks they even had a "Ger-
man" prisoner, outfitted in German uniform, who
was "wounded." Corpsmen bandaged his hurt and
then brought him in for questioning, just as would
have happened on the real battle front.
Highly important are special tests which call for
improvisation. In this manner are the students
taught to think beyond their "book learning" in
meeting the many emergencies of the battle zone.
And they do meet the unusual situations when
thrown on their own. Because they are young and
energetic, they have developed new ideas by their
experiments under pressure of necessity.
Apropos of this general thought it can be re-
corded that Army surgeons have been able to call
attention to new enemy weapons hy the type of
wound or burn. Some of the first tips have come
from these quick-thinking specialists who have
adapted themselves to the environment of war at
close quarters.
11
Southwest Pacific
1 HE NATURE of the War ill the Pacific is well
characterized by the fact that the Allies in the main
were compelled to abandon the use of the Red Cross
for protective purposes in savino- life, because a
barbaric enemy used this emblem of mercy as a
target for bombs and bullets.
Not only was it necessary for Uncle Sam's forces
to obscure the Red Cross on hospitals, but the first-
aid man early learned to smear mud over insignia
on his ambulance and to remove his armband as lie
went about his rescue mission on the battlefield.
Many a hospital had been bombed, and many a
corpsman had fallen to a bullet, before the Ameri-
cans learned the manner of enemy they were fight-
ing.
Typical of Japanese tactics was the savage attack
on the United States hospital ship Comfort, loaded
to capacity with wounded, olf Okinawa on April 28,
1945. A Japanese suicide })ilot dove his plane into
the Comfort, killing some 29 people, including five
Army Medical officers and six Army nurses. The
attack was deliberate. It was delivered in briglil,
full moonlight after the pilot had made several runs.
The problems of the Pacific fighting were many.
Much of the warfare, of course, was in the jungles
where the enemies which our men encountered in-
cluded fierce heat and horrible diseases, insects
which carried death, and horrors like land-crabs
and huge rats. In many instances these things were
worse than the enemy bullets.
It is a marvel that our death lists in the Pacific
weren't larger. The answer is that while the toll of
wounded was heavy, the Medical Corps saved most
of these men.
It was into this savage and most far-flung war of
history tluit Artist Franklin Boggs was sent early
in 1944 to paint scenes which you see in this book.
Ho was assigned to the American invasion of the
Admiralty Islands.
This group had been governed by Australia under
mandate from the League of Nations, the islands
formerly having belonged to Germany. The Japa-
nese occupied the Admiralties early in 1942 and
used them as a valuable refueling station on the
routes southward from their great naval base of
Truk, 750 miles northeast. Rabaul, the Nipponese
base in northeastern New Britain, lay 350 miles to
the southeast of the Admiralties, and the strong
enemy base of AVewak on New Guinea was 275 miles
to the southwest. So it can be seen that the Admiral-
ties were a real prize.
In recognition of this, on February 29, 1944, an
American Meet bearing troops thrust daringly across
the Bismarck Sea and invaded the Admiralties in a
surprise attack directed by General Douglas Mac-
Arthur from the bridge of a warship. Our men
hijided on Los Negros isle, just off the northeastern
tip of Manus which is the principal member of the
group. Then on March 15 we drove on to Manns it-
self under the protection of broadsides from Yankee
destroyers. By the following day the strategic air-
port of Lorengau was in our hands and our position
in the Admiralties was secure. But I want Boggs to
tell you his own story, and this is the way he re-
lated it to me:
I was assigned to the Southwest Pacific. When I
arrived in AustraUa it was suggested that I see the
base hospitals first. It was thought that if I saw the
front fines first other things would seem tame to
me. So in Melbourne and Sydney and Brisbane I
visited tb.e big base hospital centers.
li^ach one of these hospital units was different.
For instance, the one at Melbourne was made up of
Cleveland doctors, and near Brisbane there was a
Harvard group. There were separate hospitals with
specialists in certain things, such as bone surgery
and skin grafting.
At Gatton there was a rehabilitation center and
there they took men who were wounded and recon-
ditioned them to be put back into the lines again
to fight. Their morale wasn't too hot. These fellows
had suffered from malaria and they felt that they
had done their turn. War brings out the good and
had. Yon are taking a cross-section of American
manhood. There were fellows who didn't fit into
the army in the first place. Some tried to get out
of it.
(In thus referring to malingering, Boggs cites a
condition which exists in every army, in every war
theatre — and has existed for time immemorial. It is
one of the problems which all nations have to face,
but the reader should not fall into the error of
thinking that malingering was widespread among
the American forces, for it was not. However, since
the Medical Corps encountered it in most theatres,
it is well that we take note of it.)
12
Tlie men (maliugorers) complained or having
chronic stomach trouble, or what not. The medics
had so much difficulty trying to take care of the
^vounded that they couldn 't always look after these
special cases, so they sent the complainers hack to
the base hospitals. There a diagnosis was made and
they were treated.
The doctors would discover that there was noth-
ing the matter with a guy. He was shipped up to
the' front again. He pulled the same thing once
more. Some of the men came back two or three
times. It was really quite a problem. Generally there
was nothing the matter with them — they were pro-
fessional "gold bricks."
There were malaria cases that were dischai'ged
because they were chronic. There was a rule that
no one who had malaria could leave the theatre.
Many of the men were taking atabrine pills (the
famous new malaria medicine) and they would hide
them. They would get malaria on purpose in order
to stay out of the fighting. The doctors would line
these fellows up, as you see in my picture of men
taking pills (the title of this picture is *'Pill Call"),
and made sure they took them. These pills turn
you to about the color of a lemon.
About this time the Admiralty Islands campaign
began. This was the first move north of New Guinea
—an amazing place where there are large moun-
tains 13,000 feet high. At that time they were doing
some fighting at Saidor but it wasn't heavy and I
had to go where it was.
I fiew over the Coral Sea from Australia to Port
Moresby (southeast New Guinea). Out in the Coral
Se;) it was beautiful — coral reefs down below. The
colors were like jewels — green and blue and gray
and white. Generally the corals are submerged.
Sometimes they look like doughnuts underneath the
water. From Port Moresby I worked my way to
Finschhafen where there was an airstrip which had
been carved out of the jungle. Fighter planes were
taking off all the time. They were just like bees.
The invasion of the Admiralties was in full force
and we already had captured Momote (on Los Ne-
gros Island just east of Manus) from the Japanese.
I went into Los Xegros. You could see the Japanese
fighting through the smoke.
G U I N E^iA
1 S Al:A RK
ARCH klp
- w
f-\ „,.-■ NADZAB ,..,
CORAL SEA
SCftlE Of hUllLtl
F.&..
13
There wore a lot of our ships iiiiloadiii|E?, and siip-
])IIes were lined up along the beach. There were
many jeeps and trucks hauling these things away.
They really had got a good hold of the airstrip.
1 told Colonel John Hall (Army ^Tedical Corps
olfioer) that I wanted to get real lighting in the
front hnes. lie said :
"Let's go!"
**Do you have someone to go along with me?" I
asked.
"I will go with you," he replied.
We started out in his jeep and he took me to a
place called Papatali Mission. There had been a
mission at that place and the Japanese had taken
over. Our fellows had made a landing on this par-
ticular spot the day before and 300 men who had
pushed up through the dense undergrowth had been
caught in enemy cross-fire.
I did a painting of three battalion aid stations.
On D-Day at Los Xegros Colonel Hall set up an
emergency operating room in a former Japanese
pillbox. (From this Boggs made his picture "Bat-
talion Aid Station.")
While we were up at Papatali Mission an oflficor
told Hall he was afraid one of the outfits had been
cut off because communication had been lost. Some-
how the Japanese had cut the Signal Corps lines.
"We have got to get up there," said Hall.
That man deserves a lot of credit. He is a cou-
rageous guy.
We got into a little old rowboat and some Aus-
tralians rowed us down along the coast to a point
where we landed. We started up inland with some
native ammunition carriers. We didn't know where
the Japs were. Suddenly there was an ungodly
scream and everybody fell flat. One of the natives
told us it was a jungle bird. On we went to what had
been a Jap outpost. There was rice and stuff all
over the place. It was very smelly. We had a little
rest there before going up.
It was really quite dramatic. Along this trail we
met a fellow sitting with a tommy-gun. lie was an
outpost to check and see what went on. We met
some Signal Corps fellows stringing wire, followed
by a chap with a tommy-gun.
We passed a group coming down this trail. One
of our men called out:
"Hey, what happened to iVfike?"
*'He got it," rephed tlie other.
"Is he dead?" our man asked.
"Not yet," was the laconic answer.
Then there was silence.
We arrived on the top of the hill whore the bat-
talion aid station was. There was a modlcnl cfiptain
in charge of this station and ho had throe doctors
besides iirst-aid men. They had lost some of tlioso
aid men who had crawled out to get the wounded.
Natives carried down the wounded. Tlie native
labor was called Angau, which stands for Australia
Xew Guinea Administrative Unit. There were HO,-
000 employed in the New Guinea campaign and
through Lend-Lease some of these fellows worked
for us. General MacArthur paid thorn a tribute when
he said it would have been impossible for the Xew
Guinea campaign to succeed without them.
Colonel Hall went about checking what the Medi-
cal Corps needed. He wasn't supposed to bo out in
the field doing tliis kind of work but ho did i1 to
make sure things were going properly. He told the
fellows off, too, if everything wasn't all riglit. He
risked his neck — a fighting fool — and they admired
him.
During our triy) wo stopped at every battalion
aid station along the coast. They had an arrange-
ment whereby the wounded were evacuated from
those stations in barges and were taken to a lios-
pital which had better facilities. This set-up was
amazingly efficient.
The battalion aid stations, which accompany the
troops, treat for shock and bandage wounds. If a
man was dying, they would take a chance and per-
form a major operation, but generally a battalion
aid officer is a specialist in first-aid treatment and in
putting splints on fractures. He must know what to
do quickly in order to keep the wounded man in con-
dition until ho can be sent back to a hospital.
I went over to Manns Island and it was amazing
what the war was like on a beach-head. You think
of constant fighthig but it's not like that. There was
artillery set up on an island two miles off shore
to knock out the Japs and it was firing over our
heads as we came in. Supplies were being unloaded,
and tliere were follows in swimming, having a won-
derful time while tlie guns boomed. Wounded men
were coming in — -one with his jaw shot and hanging
down.
We pushed In from the beach a little way to a
hill. The Japanese had heavy guns but our men had
swarmed up to the crest. One of the wounded bound
for the battalion aid station had been shot through
the log and was in agony. I had a camera along
with me and when he saw this he begged me not
to take his picture looking like that. Many of the
men were overcome by the heat in the fighting, and
four had passed out from exhaustion. The Ad-
miralty Islands are only about two degrees short
of the equator.
On the way back from the beach-head the boys
who wore in charge of the landing-barge Avantod to
know what I was doing, and I explained that I was
on assignment for the Army Medical Corps. They
wore in sympathy with the corps and o\-eryono
thought that it was doing a swell job. Those men
didn't even know what month it was or what day it
was. The chief thing running through their minds
14
was ''When do 1 get home?" It was a job to be
done.
The corpsmen and the GIs wore constantly asking
questions about their comrades — "Have you seen
so-and-so! "—"How is he!" — "How many fellows
are out there wounded?" When a wounded fellow
is brought into the battalion aid tent they talk to-
g-ether just as thougli they were discussing a foot-
ball game. "Mike got it when that mortar shell hit"
— "That machine-gun opeiied up right in front of
my face."
It's astonishing that more lads were not killed.
The Japs felt tliat they were going to die anyway
and might as \viil\ take down a couple of their
enemies with them.
Back in Los Negros they had set up an operating
room, 30 by 80 feet. Four operating tables were
going constantly. There were about five or sis sur-
geons, all young fellows, and I went in at night
when they were operating.
There was no picture of men in white. I think in
Europe it might have been a little different but out
there these medics had to contend with the rains,
and the water came into their operating theatre. It
was muddy, and there were bloody bandages about.
The surgeons wear only a pair of shorts and a little
operating cap.
I saw one fellow — a very handsome young lad —
having his leg amputated. lie didn't know what had
hit him, because he was knocked out when a piece
of mortar shell struck him. As he lay there naked
on the operating table yon wondered Avhat tlioughts
would go through his mind when he came out from
under the anesthetic.
One of the most dramatic things that I saw was a
corpsman Avalking out of a tent, carrying a bucket
with an amputated foot in it, and part of a hand
and gauze — just a lot of blood and mess. He was
going to bury it. That's one of the many duties of
the corpsman — that and scrubbing the blood off the
stretchers. (This is shown in Boggs' painting "End
of a Busy Day," where the stretchers are being
cleaned in the surf, for it is said that salt water is
good.)
The corpsman who washes the stretcher does a
lot to make the wheels of the Medical Corps turn.
Some of the men work themselves to death. Prob-
ably in civilian life they were meek and mild fel-
lows, and being so close to wounded men they feel
that they can't give enough.
For instance, if there's heavy fighting tlie corps-
man never lets up. He has to go right back and get
another injured mau. He never can say "I'm tired."
The enemy snipers pick off a GI. Maybe he's just
wounded but is so badly hurt that ho can't even
crawl from the spot where he has fallen. He yells
for help — for water. Along comes a corpsman, and
he's a perfect target for some sniper.
If a corpsman has to crawl out to get a wounded
soldier, a machine-gunner goes along with him. The
cory)sman risks his life to get th*^ injured man Imt
knows that his comrade with the machine-gun will
avenge any sniper's bullet. I think the corpsmen
deserve tremendous credit.
Ice is important in the tropics. In many cases it
is used to keep down infection. For instance, if they
had been able to get ice they might have saved the
leg of that boy who was operated on at Los Negros.
With ice available they could have packed his leg
and llown him back to New Guinea.
' >'-^
I returned to New Guinea on a B-17 which
brought in a cargo of medical supplies and carried
wounded men back. They put the patients through
the gun turrets to get them into the plane. Only
cargo planes are equipped with racks for evacuat-
ing the wounded, so these fellows had to be put on
the catwalk through the center of the B-17. When
we took off it seemed as though we must hit the
palm trees on the runway because of the great
wingspread of this huge bomber.
With the gun turrets opened there was a great
deal of wind coming in and the blankets would blow
from the wounded fellows. It was important to keep
them covered. A special corpsman went along with
the boy who had his jaw shot off. I had followed
this case from the day he was wounded. He was all
bandaged up, and the fluid from his salivary glands
kept running down and choking him. The corps-
man went along to keep this GT's head turned and
mojj his face.
15
Of course the wounded man couldn't talk. The
eorpsman would lean over him and ask him if he
wanted anything. The GI would reach up and hold
liie ('ori)snian down lo him. He didn't need any-
thing:, but he wanted someone near him.
Tiiere were touj^Ii ,e:unners on this ship sittin,ij;
on ammunition boxes. They would watoh and say,
'*My God, this is awful!" In looking out for the
wounded men, we nearly lost the whole plane. We
wei'f about If) minutes away from the base when
a Jap bomber, out on a reconnaissance flight, flew
over us and dropped two bombs in an attempt to hit
our B-17. One bomb went forward and the other
went aft, and our gunners opened up with their
50 's but he was too far away.
When I returned to New Guinea there was no
place for me to stay except in the ward of a port-
able hospital witl; ^^'ouuded men. I was three beds
away from tlie fellow who had his jaw shot off.
This portable hospital was right in the jungle.
It was screened in and had an iron roof on it. In
the Pacific you always slept under mosquito nets,
which were a sort of green color.
It was a strange experience, being inside a net
with a flash-light shining on the scenes about you.
A nurse came through to look after a shipwrecked
sailor who had swallowed so much oil that he vom-
ited constantly and couldn't keep down food or
water. You would see an arm in a cast, oi- bandaged
limbs, sticking up in the air. Men were restlessly
turning over.
Outside in the jungle at night there are the
danmedest 7ioises. Among other things there is a
tropical bird which has a terrible scream. While I
was in the Admiralty Islands, everyone had slept
with his knife in his hammock. So I figured that I
was going to sleep with my knife in the portable
hospital. I had my knife right handy and had dozed
ofif when there was a terrific racket on the corru-
gated iron roof. I grabbed my knife and yelled.
Somebody said:
"All right, buddy. Take it easy. Don*t get ex-
cited. It's just a cocoimt falling on the roof."
In New Guinea and all the other islands out there
conditions had been primitive before the war. There
was nothing but native villages, and bringing in
nurses was difficult. Consequently nurses didn't ar-
rive until things had been pretty well consoUdated.
The minute the base hospitals were set up, the
nurses came along. In the matter of the Philippines
and Saipan the nurses went in sooner because (hey
had buildings as base hospitals and there was less
chance of being overrun by the enemy. The Flight
Nurses would go on planes to advance bases and
come out with the wounded. They did a great job.
At Port Moresby, New Guinea, there was the 17Ist
Hospital and this had modern equipment.
One of the terrible diseases of the New Guinea
jungle is "scrub typhus." There is a grass called
kunai which grows five or six feet high. In that
grass there is a louse which breeds typhus germs
and infects humans.
This typlms Isn't like the European variety. Gen-
erally a man will become paralyzed. The paralysis
hits him on the seventh day, starting in his legs
and working up to his lungs. He gets so paralyzed
you would think that he was never going to breathe
again, and if he isn't cured by the twelfth or thir-
teenth day, he is gone. This scourge was all through
New Guinea. Our troops were ordered to tie their
pants legs and keep their borlies covered as much
as possible.
Skin diseases are severe afflictions out in New
Guinea and other steamy hot islands of the Pacific.
Some of them consist of itchy scaling patches with
open sores partly caused by the scratching. Some-
times they spread over the entire body. The soldiers
have coined the word "jungle rot" for all types of
skill diseases which occur in jungle areas. The doc-
tors don't like this terra because it means so many
different things. One soldier who writes home and
says that he has "jungle rot" might have ordinary
athlete's foot, another a skin ulceration, another a
dermatitis due to plants, etc. However, soldiers like
vivid terms and they won't gi\-e up this one. I saw-
plenty of skill diseases in New Guinea and back in
the hospitals of Australia.
The fighting men have to live like rats in the first
few days of an invasion. They live in dirt— in the
ground. They can't wash their clothes. Because of
constant rain and perspiration in intense humidity,
their clothes never are dry. Insects get on them and
the men start scratching. The men scratch this dirt
into themselves and get their skin infected. The first
stage produces i-unning and crusty sores. Then
come blisters which break, and the infected water
spreads to other places. I saw cases where the doc-
tors put piping over the beds to hold up the sheets
so tJiat they wouldn't touch the nft'ected men. In
some cases the scaling, oozing patches get into the
ears and around the eyes and they want to scratch
themselves all the time. Skin diseases are bad out in
New Guinea, but luckily they are not contagious
and the men don 't infect each other and they won 't
infect other people when they come home.
Sometimes the doctors paint the fellows with
gentian violet. I was very much impressed. Out in
the jungle they had Medical Corpsmen set up a
dispensary. Men with sores on their body would go
there and corpsmen would paint them with gentian
violet. Some of them with a strong sense of humor
made their painting with a design. I called one of
my pictures "Easter Egg."
One of the most efficient developments in the
Army Medical Department operations in the South-
16
west Pacific was the formation of the portable hos-
pital uiiit.s, since these units were used in the early
stages of invasion. They moved tliem by man-power
through the jungles and they actually transpoi'ted
24-bed hospitals right over the Owen-Stanley range
of mountains in New Guinea. Medical supplies were
packed in oil drums which were slung between two
poles with straps. The members of the unit had to
carry their own food and water for the trip. They
moved fast and there seemed to be no place they
couldn't go.
Portable units went into the Admiralties on D-
Day. The units were so arranged, with prefabri-
cated equipment, thai they could be set up and get
to work immediately they hit a beach-head. These
hospitals had full equipment and were sort of com-
bined battalion aid stations and clearing stations.
They not only may be on the firing line, but they
also operate. You find them in the jungle, on the
beach-heads, and even on the decks of transport
ships.
One evening I was walking along a beach. The
sun was going out in the west. I saw a blood plasma
bottle — a medical first-aid tin broken open — some
bloody gauze and torn clothing. These things are
symbolic of the Medical Corps. You know that
wounded men have been treated. AVherever war has
passed, there you see the Medical Corps syrettes.
"When we went in and shelled an island it meant
that the natives got shelled. Children, who didn't
know what it was all about, got hurt. The Army
Medical Corps cared for these wounded. One of the
doctors at Finschhafen had a beautiful set of native
spears as a result of such aid, and the way he got
them was this :
There was a very sick little boy in a village. Some
natives came to the American hospital and asked
this doctor to treat the child. The medic did so, and
when the youngster was well his father said to the
physician :
"I will give you anything you want."
The medical officer said he would like to have a
few spears and arrows. The next day the father
brought over a load of them — magnificent ebony
fishing spears.
Turning to anothi^r phase of the war, T have this
feeling: that we are so far away from these boys
who are coming back that 90 per cent of the people
don't know what the soldiers stand for. We douH
know where the places are that they speak of. Thev
talk in GI terms of *' jungle rot," and it has no
meaning on the home front.
It's going to be very difficult for the average
soldier. People won't appreciate what he has gone
through and has suffered. Flyers! Folk don't even
know what kind of planes the airman has flown.
We don't talk the fighting man's language.
While I was at the special hospital at Port Mores-
by, they had one fellow from Chicago in confine-
ment. He was the mildest-looking man. I took his
picture. Well, he had killed three of his fellow
fighters at the front when he got so excited that
he "blew his top." The authorities found that he
had become insane. His recovery is doubtful.
The worst case of this nature was a chap from
Oklahoma. He had been a gunman for a racketeer
but when the war broke out this trigger-man and
two brothers joined the service. They were sent to
the Pacific, and his two brothers were killed.
With that the ex-gunmau became mentally un-
balanced and went AWOL from his labor battalion
with a machine-g-un. He climbed over the towering
Owen-Stanley Mountains and joined up with the
Australians on the other side.
I saw the report made on the case by the captain
of the Australian unit to which the Oklahoman be-
came attached. This said that he killed 135 Japs.
He had no fear whatever but just pursued the enemy
with his machine-gun. This" idea of exacting ven-
geance for the death of his brothers became a mania
with him and he reached the stage where he was
ready to kill anyone.
They got him back to Port Moresby, where they
put him in confinement. But he had one of his spells
during which he punched a hole through a wall with
his bare fists, got out and knocked a imrse down.
He knew when his attacks were coming on and used
to warn the doctors so that they could handle him
during this period. They were afraid that he might
never fit into society again because of the possibility
of recurrence.
Most of the fellows come out of that sort of thhig.
I've seen cases of men completely mad, and in about
three weeks you wouldn 't know that there had ever
been anything the matter with them. I saw one lot
of heavily bearded fighting men, just back from the
front, who were so addled they would sit in a daze.
The ship I came back on carried 87 psychoneurotic
patients. One fellow jumped overboard. One nurse
was out of her mind. Many doctors have lost their
reason. This is one of the difficult problems of the
Medical Corps.
Here is another impression : We had just had our
supper in the Admiralties when a truck called a
"hearse" came in. I looked into the hearse and saw
a whole row of dead American soldiers. I saw a
hand with a high-school ring on it. I saw their bodies
taken over to graves.
That sort of thing gets you to thinking. These
poor devils out here are fighting this war. They've
been taken from their homes. Men will risk their
lives. Fighting day after day, life becomes cheap.
By the law of averages they feel:
"I will get it sooner or later."
17
Men do heroie tliiiiji;s. None of them think at the
time:
'*I am doing a brave thing!"
I've seen the g'reatost affection between two men.
I came back on a ship carrying wounded men to the
United States. I was interested in a boy who had
been hit by a piece of shell and was paralyzed on
his right side. He couldn't talk or walk. While ho
was in the hospital he met n fellow who had a case
similar to his own but had recovered.
The fellow who had regained his speech felt that
he could help the other b;i' giving him encourage-
ment. He would carry the paralyzed boy in his arms.
The Good Samaritan would talk to his buddy and
the latter would make answer by shaking or nod-
ding his head. Their greatest fear was that when
they got back to the United States they would get
separated by being sent to different hospitals.
The men on that ship had been away 26 to 28
months. They had been through the toughest part
of the fighting. Coming back home was really some-
thing. There were fellows who wore unable to walk
on deck — and corpsmen carried them up to see the
Oolden Gate.
18
4
Saipan
UuR CONQUEST of Saipaii in June and July of
1944 was one of tlio j^rcat battles of the Pacific, for
this island not only lay at the crossroads of the
Mikado's supply lines but also was a vital stepping
stone to Japan proper.
Saipan belongs to the Marianas Group (known
also as the Ladrones). It is about 700 miles north-
west of Truk — one of Japan's most powerful bases
— and some 1,000 miles northeast of the Palau Is-
lands. These three— Saipan, Truk and the Palaus
— were names to conjure with in the war against
Nippon, for they were towers of Japanese strength
and strategy in the Southwest Pacific.
American forces stormed their way onto Saipan
June 14 under cover of bombardment by United
States warships and the bombing and strafing of
carrier planes. The contest for the island was
bloody, but by July 9 Admiral Chester W. Nimitz,
Commander of all American naval forces in the
Pacific, was able to announce :
"Our forces have completed tlie conquest of Sai-
pan."
Then on July 25 Secretary of the Xavy James V.
Forrestal reported that American casualties totaled
16,463, including 3,049 killed in action, ] 3,049
wounded and 365 missing. He stated that more tlian
5,000 of the wounded already had returned to duty,
and added:
"This reduces our net losses at Saipan by about
one-third and it speaks volumes for both the morale
of the troops and the effectiveness of the Medical
Corps."
This Battle of Saipan was the red-hot assignment
handed to Artist Robert Benney, and here is the
story of his experiences as he told it informally
to me:
I went from San Francisco by battleship to Pearl
Harbor where I spent several weeks doing base
hospital work. Then I was assigned to a transport
ship carrying soldiers and marines. You are tinder
strict secrecy when you know where you are go-
ing, as all war correspondents do. Once you are
aboard ship you can 't go back to your hotel.
I spent several weeks on the boat and did lots
of work in the sick-bay. Several interesting things
happen to the boys 07i a ship. When you pull out
from the home port there is not a thing doing in
the sick-bay, but after you arc at sea awhile it be-
comes a well-populated place.
Every fighting unit has its own Medical Corps
outfit with it. The men receive reg-ular medical care
in the sick-bay. The corpsmen hold constant consul-
tations. They always are trying to improve them-
selves. The interesting thing is to see the earnest-
ness of the boys to add to their knowledge. They
cram and cram and spend hours in the hot ship
trying to add to their skill.
That goes on all the time until the troops are
ready to go over the side. I^^ach corpsman has a
special job. One group is trained in pest control, an-
other for battahon work up front, and still others
are litter bearers. They all are specialists. If a boy
shows special aptitude in a certain tj^pe of work,
he will be selected for that. If he is light and agile,
and can leap over crags and rocks, he is likely to
become a litter bearer. If he is heavier he will be
assigned to another job.
My approach was slrictly that of observing the
average man — to see what happened to the average
medical soldier.
The doctors are always on their toes to make sure
that the troops are tops all of the time. For instance,
the fungus disease in the ears and toes is a com-
mon one, and every man who becomes afflicted with
this is immediately treated and put back into shape.
It is also of the utmost importance to see that all
immunization injections are kept up to date.
The cooperation is splendid between the Anny
aTid Navy personnel aboard ship. They're com-
pletely at the service of one another. Tlie Army
takes care of its own men on the trip and the Ma-
rines take care of theirs, but the doctors of the two
services get together for consultation, and diag-
noses are made jointly. The Marine doctor may have
been an abdominal surgeon in civilian life. The Navy
man may have been a brain specialist. The Army
physician may have been a pediatrician. They pool
their knowledge.
Our landing on Saipan got underway during the
night. Some of the men had to wade quite a distance
from their landing craft because the tide had turned.
Others went in on ducks {amphibious trucks) and
alhgators (amphibious tanks). When daylight came
it was an amazing sight. Our ships were maintain-
ing a continuous barrage, and we could plainly see
19
our flame throwers smoking out the pill boxes and
our carrier planes and ships bombing the heavier
Jap installations. There was a great deal of dust
in the air, and large smoke columns were pouring
from gasoline dumps which had been fired.
Every man had to reach the beach and do his
job. You saw pieces of clothing floating on the water.
At the outset of the landing you didn't see any dead
men. Bodies got caught on the bottoms of amphib-
ious vehicles and showed up days later.
You saw m&ji hauling supplies on the beaches.
Everybody was dirty and sweaty and very much the
same color— gray. The intense barrage from Ihe
ships stirred up the coral dust which covered every-
thing.
There were ducks and alligators taking the
wounded back to the ship. My first sight of the
wounded was when T saw them being loaded into
LCVP's. They had been wounded chiefly by Jap
rifle fire and mortars. Some of the first men to land
didn't get touched until they had got up on the
shore about 100 yards. Then the Japs let them
have it.
During and after the landings, numerous ships
continually unloaded annnunition and supplies in
order to maintain our positions. AVe pushed the
Japs back b\' weight of materiel aiid men and tough
and bloody figliting.
l']ach group of Marines and Army men has a cer-
tain number of corpsmen to take care of it. The
corpsmen "go in" with Ihc fighters. The medics
always travel with the troops to which they are
assigned. Colonel Elliott G. Colby was the chief
surgeon of the Army garrison force on Saipan.
I hitched a ride on a truck which had brought a
load of wounded to the beach. The wounded lay in
tiers on trucks, and the corpsmen saw that the
dressings were in place and gently wiped the in-
jured men's faces and brushed off the numerous
flies.
The corpsmen do (lie same things for these men
as their mother would.
It was not quite dark when I finally found my
way to the 38th Field Hospital of the 27th Division.
The place was littered with wounded. This hospital
was located in ('hinook Village at the southern tip
of the island. To reach it one traveled along the
beach road which had but recently been secured.
The dust was so thick that you couldn't move more
than four or five miles an hour, and the drivers of
all trucks and other veliicles were armed against
sudden ambush or sniper tire attacks.
Surrounding this village were heights known as
"Bloody Kidge" and others from wbich the Japa-
nese recently had been cleared out but from which
snipers still were operating and even shooting pa-
tients in the field hospital. Our men have such con-
tempt for the Japanese that they won't use the
fox-holes that the Japs have dug, but often dig their
own right next to them.
T worked at the 38th Field Hospital, the 31st
Field Hospital, the 2nd Marine Hospital, the 5th
Amphibious Corps Hospital and at the Clearing
and Aid stations. I syjcnt five days and nights at
the 381h, sleeping on a litter or on the floor. There
was no other place to sleep. The doctors rarely
slept. They worked until they either dropped from
exhaustion or were ordered off duty. There were slit
trenches to dive into when the Japs shelled the
area, but these doctors and corpsmen kept on op-
erating during the air raids, working by flasldiglit
at night in the stifling, blacked-out tent.
Along with the surgeons and corpsmen were the
Red Cross representatives and the chaplains of the
various faiths. These men did a magnificent job,
soothing and encoui'aging the wounded and admin-
istering the last rites to the dying. As in my pic-
ture *'A Prayer for Johnny" (Men with God), at
the request of this badly wounded man the chaplain
gently reads a psalm while the soldier slowly goes
to sleep under an anesthetic.
The wounded men were brought into the receiv-
ing tent where they were given plasma in some
cases or were taken to the shock tent where almost
every man received plasma. The men who drove the
jeeps had a tough job, and they looked as though
they had been tired for weeks. Frequently these men
would work continuously all day, and at night when
they got back from the front they would act as litter
bearers.
It was eerie the way jeeps loaded with wounded
would keep coming down the road at night while
Jap planes were approaching. The drivers were
supposed to seek cover but they wouldn't desert the
wounded. They took the injured men off the jeeps
first. For a time there was such a tremendous influx
20
of wounded that there wasn't sufficient tentage for
them.
As previously pointed out, the doctors kept right
on working during the air raids. From a dugout one
night I saw two Jap planes shot down. One exploded
into a red ball of flame and foil into ]\[agicieune
Bay. I saw men wdio had been working continually
for 24 hours as litter bearers and jeep di-ivers.
They called the jeeps "meat wagons." When the
jeep pulled up at night during a raid the drivers
would call out "Litter bearer!" and some of these
men would crawl from the dugouts and take the
wounded into the tent for plasma. I know nothing
tougher than leaving a hole during an air raid.
Wlien the Jap bombers were a^jproaching one of
the boys would lift the flap of the tent and yell,
"Air raid!" Then the switch was thrown for the
generator which supplied light for the hospital,
plunging the entire area into darkness. Still the
operating wont on by flashlight. The flap would be
lifted again and there would come the yell, "Fnemy
planes overhead!" Everybody was supposed to stop
work and hit tlic dirt — a regulation which rarely
was complied with.
The doctors were completely selfless in their woi-k
as the wounded kept flowing in. Sometimes the com-
manding officer had to order a man off duty because
he hadn't slept for such a long time. The Colonel
woidd say:
"This is an order. You must go off duty. You are
too valuable to be walking around until you drop."
The doctor then would go into his tent, shave and
wash with some of the filtliy water in the cistern,
lie down for a few minutes — and then get up and go
right back to work.
You slept wherever you could find a place but,
wherever you were, the infiltrating Japs were apt
to discover you. They would crawl up in the dark-
ness and put a grenade by your tent or hut and then
sneak away. Snipers would lurk nearby waiting for
you to disclose your whereabouts by some move-
ment. One of our doctors was shot in the leg in
broad daylight while taking a shower atop a Jap
water cistern.
The climate of Saipaa is humid and the tempera-
ture high. Everybody was wet all the time, and
covered with soot and dust. The island is volcanic
and everything has to be regarded as liighly infec-
tious because of the dust. Every scratch, every
wound, had to be treated immediately.
The terrain of Saipan' is hilly and jagged and
tiiere is jungle on the island. There are numerous
insects and pests — scorpions, land crabs, snakes,
mosquitoes. The flies from the dead were terrific.
The land crabs would crawl into fox-holes and at-
tack wounded men. There also were plenty of rats
which were extremely largo.
However, the men stood up very well under all
this.
When I hit the landing beach I was stunned for
two days. I couldn't do a bit of work. I wont into
the operating tent and the heat was intense. Every-
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thing was blacked out at niglit. There was no ven-
tilation. The heat — the smells — the blood — the brain
cases! I could take it for 20 minutes or so and then
had to go out for air.
The lighting was provided by portable generators.
The surgeons usually wore shorts, and sometimes
gowns in cases of abdominal or other major opera-
tions. They also wore masks.
Our men didn't get gangrene because they had
their wounds treated at once, while the natives got
gangrene because they had old wounds. The Japs
were sent to a separate hospital but they received
the same treatment as our men.
(The reader undoubtedly will recognize, without
prompting from the writer, that Artist Benney was
risking his life every moment of the day and night,
just as did the other artists who were assigned to
the theatres of war. It was the feeling of these men
that it was their duty to collect as much informa-
tion as they possibly could, even on the tiring line,
in connection with the work of the Army Medical
Corps. They had to get out and do their jobs and
forget about themselves.)
The danger to the medics was the same as it was
to the lighting men, and the latter had the highest
regard for the corpsmen. Some of the aid stations
were no more than slit trenches from which the
corpsmen would crawl out, get the wounded and
drag them in by a rope tied around them. Once in
the trench they could be given plasma.
These slit trenches were in constant danger of
being surrounded or overrun by Japs in their banzai
charges. The trenches were also under mortar fire
on occasion, and a large number of the Medical
Corps lost their lives or were Avounded.
During the battle the corpsman would crawl out
and two riflemen would watch him to keep him cov-
ered so that he could get the wounded. If a Jap
fired they would pepper his position. In the abso-
22
lutely silent night they would try to creep up and
drop grenades into your fox-hole.
The fighting on Saipan was largely with rifie and
mortars. Wherever a line did exist it Avas taken
care of with heavy guns which were going all the
time — Bloody Eidge, Hill Five Hundred, Nafutan
Point, Agingan Point, Magicienne Bay, Garapan,
the battle of Tanapag Harbor.
Marpi Point was where the Jap suicides occurred.
The Japanese killed the civilians rather than allow
them to surrender. There were three civilian com-
pounds — for Chamorros, Koreans and Japanese —
and the civilians poured inlo the compound by thou-
sands as the battle progressed.
A score or so of Army nurses came in with the
Second Echelon after the island was secured. Fight-
ing still contiimed, however. These girls were put in
with the civilian poxjulation, and they did a wonder-
ful job. They worked night and day, principally with
the women and children of the natives.
In a civilian hospital to which they were attached
there was a Japanese girl with a remarkal)le story.
She had been a nurse in civilian life and was in a
cave with other civilians and some Jap soldiers
when American troops entered to clear them out.
Our men found this girl lying with her throat cut
from ear to ear. They rushed her to the hospital
and her life was saved. When she was able to talk
she explained she had done this because she had
been taught that American soldiers always raped
women and then killed them. Amazed and grateful
for our humane treatment, she gave her services
as a trained nurse in the hospitah
A wounded Japanese soldier who was being
treated by an American corpsnian tried to kill the
latter — and this after being bandaged and fed by
the Americans. One of the things that the corps-
men in the aid stations and the field hospital had to
watch out for was attack by Japanese wounded. If
a Jap was sufficiently strong he might seize a knife
and attack a doctor.
But to get back to the treatment of our oAvn boys,
the shock tent gave you the impression of an as-
sembly line^ — the men all getting plasma. Some were
given five or six units. Some came in there with
practically no pulse and appeared quite dead. The
doctor would examine the patient and prescribe
])lasma to be given. Then a corpsman would work
on the wounded man, giving him unit after unit,
and the strangest sight was to see a man, who had
received five or six units, come to life, open his eyes,
and ask for a cigarette. He would want to know
where he was and would ask if his buddy was all
right.
You never heard the really wounded cry out.
There was a certain amoTint of moaning, but no
yelling. I heard but one wounded man yell in Saipan,
and that was in a hospital area. He was a Jap. He
had a superficial wound and thought the Americans
were taking him into the tent to torture or kill him.
The corpsmen often would give their blood to the
wounded. On the hospital ship Solace a call went out
one night for 50 donors, and they got over 250
volunteers from the ship's personnel.
Colonel Colby rode around the island picking
hospital sites. Along with his immediate responsi-
bilities his concern was for the future of his men.
He really was an artist as well as a great surgeon.
He selected his hospital sites after carefully analyz-
ing all the terrain and conditions, looking forward
to the rehabilitation period of the wounded with
the idea of surrounding them with all the beauty
possible, and thereby helping their recovery. He had
to do this during battle conditions, projecting his
imagination and probing the island for its sensitive
beauty in the better days to come.
At Garapan, the capital city, the Japs had a beau-
tiful hospital which we used, of course. Indications
were that they had killed all their wounded before
they evacuated the place. A captured Japanese
medical officer who was questioned as to what the
Japanese did with their wounded when they had to
retreat, replied that if a wounded man couldn't be
evacuated his carotid artery was cut and he was
impregnated with an inflammable fluid.
Every wounded or sick American was evacuated
by ship or by plane. The first stop back from Saipan
was the island of Eniwetok, in the Marshall Islands,
where some of the wounded were kept until they
were able to continue. We had other hospitals scat-
tered throughout the Pacific islands — Kwajalein,
Johnston Island, etc.^ — where I took notes and made
sketches. When the hospital plane landed it was met
by a crew wliich brought up huge blowers that
pumped cool air into the plane. Corpsmen fed the
■Ai
23
wounded with hot food. All this made it quite com-
fortable.
On one of the flights with the wounded we carried
15 eye cases. Motor trouble at Johnston Islaiul
forced us to wait for another plane, and the
wounded men were taken to the hospital. Tliere they
were examined immediately and the dressings were
changed. The battlefield diagnosis for one of the
patients had been total blindness by mortar frag-
ments, but when the doctor took off tlie bandage he
saw that while one eye was dead there was life in
the other.
"I think we can give this boy an eye," said the
pliysician.
With that he swabbed the pus from the eye and
though it was puffed up and discolored, the eye was
O.K. I'll never forget the expression on the sol-
dier's face when he realized he could see again!
This is an example of tlie Army Medical Corps'
vigilance in safeguarding our boys.
24
5
Italy
Italy and other battlefields of the MediterraiieaTi
theatre produced Home of the most important medi-
cal advancements of the entire second World "War.
The American Medical Corps — fif^iiting' such
dread enemies as malaria and typhus, wliieli down
the ages had ravaged ai'mles — lost only 585 soldiers
to disease from the time of the North African in-
vasion^ November 8, 1942, through March of 1945
when the l']ui-opean conflict was rushing to its end.
This really amazing record was made public in
Rome on May 14, 1945, by Major General Morrison
C. Stayer, chief theatre surgeon, whose 50 Army
hospitals treated 918,298 members of the United
States armed forces during the period in question —
and this with a death record of less than one per
cent.
One of the early problems of the Array Medical
Corps was a malignant type of malaria. In 1943
this was taking the life of one out of everj 700 sol-
diers stricken with it. But by 1944 the ratio had
been cut to one in 14,000 !
Then there were outbreaks of typhus — ^that ter-
rible pestilence which Is borne by lice — among na-
tives of Africa and Italy, but Ihere were only nine
eases in the Army and all of these were non-fatal.
For the first time a typhus epidemic was knocked
out by a louse powder — the sensational new DDT.
This was in 1943 when there was an outbreak of the
scourge in Naples and almost the entire population
was dusted with this powder.
Bacillary dysentery was kept under control by
sulfa drugs. Our sanitation measures were so effec-
tive that only 161 cases of typhoid hit the armed
forces.
Major General Stayer reported that the doctors
of the Mediterranean zone made an outstanding con-
tribution io medical science in the early diagnosis
and treatment of jaundice, a disease which hospital-
ized many American soldiers. He also noted that
this theatre pioneered in demonstrating the Tieces-
sily of adequate, fresh whole-blood for the treat-
ment of shock.
Besides caring for Americans, the Army hospitals
also treated Allied fighting men. These included
more than 100,000 British, French, Italians, Brazil-
ians, Yugoslavs, Dutch, Poles, Russians, Finns, and
Greeks. Then, of course, as in every other theatre,
civilians wore taken care of when the emergency
called for it.
Improvisation, upon which the Army Medical
Corps lays so much stress, reached a very high
pitch during the Mediterranean fighting. So the
story goes.
Artist Joseph Hirsch worked in this zone durhig
March and April of 1944 and brought back a fas-
cinating report to which the writer listened for
hours — an account which the reader will see illus-
trated by Hirsch's pictures in this book. Again I
am setting the facts down in the language brought
out by a wholly informal conversation — and now
Hirsch is speaking:
The outstanding impression of my whole trip was
that despite the preparation — and everything ap-
parently is anticipated^ — yet in the actual zone of
fighting things arise which can't be anticipated at
all. For instance, they have a wonderful streteher
which is strong, light, can fold up, will hold a
400-pound load, and yet the natives down in the
South Pacific {I was in the South Pacific) will got
a couple of poles and weave grasses across to make
a stretcher. This is springy and a little soft. There
is a space between the grass strands and it is cooler
and much more comfortable in the tropical climate.
The same idea holds good even in the northern
zones in summer.
A lot of the things which look medically wonder-
ful on paper, so far as supplies can, didn't cover all
the exigencies of actual combat. For example, there
is no way in which our Medical Department Supply
Service can sec to it that a wounded boy on a
stretcher is carried down a horribly precipitous rock
— not even dirt — at night time, as is shown in one
of my pictures. (This painting is called "Night
Shift.")
The burden of the Medical Department's joh
weighs heavily on the men who have to find ways
and means — the men at the very front. They have to
improvise. All the foresight which is so necessary
at Washington still isn't enough. The department
makes provision for everything, including front line
dental chairs — everything you can imagine! And
still the reason it works is because of unique in-
genuity.
(The reader will note that Hirsch is emphasizing
our old friend, the all-important "improvisation.")
o^
To illustrate: Normally in a back injury — a dis-
located vertebra or a broken neck — a boy's whole
body has to be kept in traction and very often bis
entire torso must be incased in a plaster cast. But
a dentist in Naples contrived a way of transporting-
a man with a broken neck in an airplane without a
plaster cast.
This dentist had a device wliich he called a niax-
illo occipital traction appliance (Ilirsch's picture
"Medical Ingenuity") by means of which the pa-
tient could be transported by litter with the entire
body in traction. The pull was maintained by means
of an ingenious plate fitting the roof of the mouth.
Out of this plate came rods which w^ere connected
by rope and pulley to a spring underneath the
stretcher. Tliat w^as a device wliich was thought of
right in the war theatre.
The same dentist got hold of a mine-detector and
devised what lie called a foreign body locator for
shell fragments. A piece of shell would come in any
one of many directions and a small wound would be
no indication as to where the metal was. The doctor
had this little mine detector which instead of being
as big as a "pie-plate," like the regular mine, was a
three-inch disc with a tiny needle on the oscillation
indicator. It would tell where the metal was just
as the big detector would locate mines.
Another Army doctor contrived a way of tindiiig
a piece of metal in a boy's groin, or ear, or throat,
where you can't probe around as you can in a fleshy
part. He wired two needles which were inserted into
the flesh at approximately right angles. A^Tien both
needles touched the piece of metal, the circuit was
completed and the doctor knew precisely where the
fragment was.
To illustrate further, in a field hospital oul in
the Solomon Islands I saw several notched pieces
of two-by-four lumber standing in the corner of a
ward and asked what they were. The explanation
was that they were used to make a sort of tent
frame over beds in case of air raids, the idea of it
being this :
When there was a raid all patients who could be
moved were immediately taken into a fox-hole. They
called even a large air-raid shelter a fox-hole, and
very often it was right in the tent. The tents had
beds and cots. The latter were light and could be
carried very easily but if a badly injured boy was
in a heavier bed, the corpsmen made a tent frame
over him with the two-by-fours and on this they
piled several mattresses. Thus the wounded chap
was in his own little air-raid shelter — not very ef-
fective with a direct hit but protecting him well in
case of a near hit.
Just that simple ingenuity is one of the things
whore a lack of supplies wouldn't enter into the
need for improvisation.
In one hospital there was a sudden rush of pa-
tients, necessitating so many changes of sheets that
the engineers made a sterilizer out of a gasoline
drum with a pressure gauge on it. Thus they had
their own little laundry — improvised because the
number of patients was so great over the period of
a few days. AVhen they brought a boy in, covered
with sticky, maroon paste^a combination of his
blood and the mud he had lain in — they got hold
of some tar paper, spread it on a bed and undressed
him there in order to save sheets. The traffic of
patients varied so greatly that there was no way in
which a doctor could be assured that everything
w^ould be there at the right time no matter what
happened.
So improvisation is one of the great points to
make in connection with the work of the Army
Medical Corps — not so much improvising instru-
ments, but improvising ways and means.
I tried to get as much latitude — as wide a variety
of corps activity as possible — in Italy. For example,
take tlie veterinary work In the Ai-niy.
(This would seem to be a good place for a word
of explanation about a highly important bul little
publicized branch of the Army Medical Department
— the Veterinary Corps. It is manned by officers
who are graduates in veterinary medicine. The vet-
erinarians have twofold duties: they are responsible
for the health of animals in the Army, including
horses, mules and war dogs; and they are con-
cerned with the supplies of food of animal origin,
which involves an immense job of inspecting and
analysis.
(In combat, animals get tlie same swift treatment
as soldiers. Veterinary aid stations receive and re-
cord animal casualties, give emergency treatments
to disabled animals, return them to duty or prepare
them for evacuation. Animals which cannot be sal-
vaged are destroyed.)
26
The pack mules in Italy were vitally important
in tlio mountainous combat zone. Mules are very
sure-footed and sensible. While a horse will get
frightened and lose its balance in the dark, these
pack mules won't.
Transportation of the wounded was the major
problem of the corpsman in the mountain regions.
Because the mules wouldn't work on precipitous
slopes in the dark, corpsmen very often had to
carry the injured back at night. I saw one wounded
soldier being transported by eight men. There were
four carrying the stretcher, one lugging all their
kits, two in front to hold back the little scrub bushes
so that the stretcher could pass, and still another
one who acted as relief.
Near Mount Camino, south of Mount Cassino, I
saw my brother-in-law — a doctor — ^who had been
wounded after forty-one days without changing his
clothes. He was hit by a mortar fragmciit. I haven't
been wounded in battle but here is how this boy
felt:
He was with the battalion aid station up on Mount
Camino. This station consisted of little more than
a lot of courage, and a canvas flap with a red cross
on it.
The men in Ihe forward zones used to cover the
red cross with mud so that it couldn't be spotted,
because the Germans — at least in Italy — sometimes
deliberately hit a hospital. If they saw the red cross
they might use it as a target because they knew that
the command post was nearby and if they could
box that area with artillery they could hit com-
munications.
At any rate, my brolher-in-law was at the front
and late in the afternoon he and some comrades
started to heat coffee over a little gasoline stove.
A mortar shell dropped nearby, and they picked
themselves up — and then a second, and a tliird.
Fjvery time they reached for the coffee another shell
came.
My brothor-in-law took refuge behind a rock with
four other men, lying elbow to elbow and holding
onto their helmets. He was in the middle. The shells
kept coming and they counted them. He thinks it
was the eighteenth or nineteenth which got them.
The boy on his far left was killed outright, the one
next to him on that side was fatally injured, my
brother-ill-law was wounded in the shoulder- — and
the two on his right wore not hurt at all.
Another medical offic;'r dressed the shoulder. A
shell fragment is red-hot and therefore often sterile,
and because of the heat penetrates the flesh very
easily. My brother-in-law didn't feel the wound
greatly and it didn't bollier him as much as the fact
that he was deaf. He had no way of knowing, al-
though he was a doctor, that he was only temporar-
ily deaf. He was quite deaf when he woke up in the
morning after lying there all night in a state of
mild shock.
All he could think about was not the wound in
his shoulder, or the fact that he had to go down the
mountainside almost five miles to get a jeep to a
collection station, or even the permanence of his
deafness- — ^but he was worrying because he couhln't
hear the sound of a shell. He never had realized how
much he listened to the war, but suddenly being
deaf was worse than the wound. To be thus deprived
of his ears meant that he had to keep an eye on
some soldier perhaps several yards ahead of him.
When the soldier heard a shell coming and dropped
for cover, the doctor hit the dirt too. The end of the
story is that within a few days his hearing was
almost 100 per cent.
At the front there was very little formality be-
tween officers and enlisted men. They ate together
and of course there Avas absolutely no saluting. At
the battalion aid station there might be one or two
doctors, eight medical corpsmen and perhaps a half-
dozen litter bearers. This was not behind the front
but was part of the fighting line.
All the stretcher bearers were volunteers. I can't
think of any more hazardous work, because they
can't defend themselves. It may be hazardous to
unscrew a pin on a bomb or a mine, or hazardous
to do something similar for one afternoon, but the.se
noble fellows serve day after day. If a soldier is
shot and falls they go and get him. Thoy are won-
derful boys !
The blackout in the combat section right near the
front lines was nearly 100 ])er cent so far as con-
cerned cigarettes, flashlights and matches. Conse-
quently, the putting of a tag on a wounded man who
was being transported back was a problem. The
stretcher bearers had to dig a hole, get a blanket
under which they could use a light, or write in the
dark.
Naturally most of the injuries occurred during
the day, although the German artillery would open
up and work at night if they knew precisely where
the target was. This meant that most of the trans-
portation was done during the day although the
movement and treatment of the wounded was a
twenty-four-hour-a-day job.
I studied anatomy as an art student, and my
father is a doctor. I'm interested in medicine and
know pretty well what the human body consists of,
but I never realized there were so many bones in
the body until I saw these wounded boys. We nor-
mally think of a bullet wound as being a hole in the
fleshy part of the body, but what the bullets do to
a bone is ghastly. I saw one soldier who had his
lung ripped, three ribs fractured, his shoulder in-
jured badly and the bone in his upper arm damaged
with just one bullet.
27
Another ^a:reat problem which the ^lodical Corps
had to face was treatment of the blind, l^'ortunately
very few boys were totally blinded, that is, lost the
sight of both eyes. Many of them — Ihousands^lost
one eye. In the case of the blind men the experts
in the war zone wanted to teach the boys how to bo
blind so that when they came back to America they
could walk down the gangplank with all the assur-
ance that the sightless person ultimately acquires.
However, it didn't work out that way because
after a few weeks of cooperation the injured man's
nostalgia for America became overpowering. For
that reason many of them were brought back for
treatment in the hospital at Valley Forge, Pennsyl-
vania, then for reconditioning at Old Farms Con-
valescent Hospital, Avon, Connecticut, before they
were ready to take off their unifoi'ms and proceed
as successful blind people.
I was told that the rise and fall of the spirit of
bUnded boys was almost the same in every case. At
first they were almost suicidal from very deep mel-
ancholy. One of the earliest things they were taught
was how to typewrite — that is, after they had
learned how to feed themselves and get to the bath-
room. AVlien they found that they were getting every
attention and that all their wants were anticipated
■ — that they could indeed find their way to the bath-
room, feed themselves, and typewrite — their spirits
rose and they became almost exhilarated, especially
over the typewriting. From then on until they were
to go home there was a slow drop.
There were some horrible instances of eye in-
juries from frost-bite among members of our air
corps based in Fngland, where I also worked. At
altitudes of 25,000 and 35,000 feet temperatures of
40 to 50 degrees below zero are "normal," and an
eye may be lost by very brief exposure to the cold
air. Fingers also become frost-bitten in 10 or 12
seconds if gloves are taken off. The fingers look
almost like little blue bananas. It is very much like
a badly burned hand and I think that medically
frost-bite and burns are akin.
We have another tine example of improvisation
in the case of the loss of eyes. That was in the de-
velopment by two dentists of acrylic resin instead
of glass for artificial eyes. The demand for artificial
eyes was considerable and couldn't be met quanti-
tatively because most of them came from German)'.
The dentists made artificial eyes by baking the
acrylic resin and painting it, and they could match
it even to the flecks in the cornea.
{Surgeon General Kirk has said: "These acrylic
eyes arc fitted to the eye-socket in the same way that
dentures are fitted to the mouth. Besides fitting
perfectly, these new eyes are much lighter and less
fragile than the old glass eye.")
(Artist Hirsch has mentioned one of the great
hazards of the air — frost-bite — but there are many
others which make aviation a definite field of medi-
cal specialization due, to (juote Deputy Air Surgeon
Charles E. Glenn, "to the inescapable fact that man
in flight is a different animal from that earthbound
creature with whom other specialists are accus-
tomed to deal."
(The airman encounters many unusual death-
dealing forces which are capable of injuring or kill-
ing him. Bar(mietric pressure and temperature at
high altitudes are among these. The flier has to
learn, too, that if he is to survive he must maintain
rigid oxygen discipline. An attempt to breathe free
air between 20,000 and 30,000 feet would result in
death in a few moments.
(Then, as General Glenn says, "each man has his
flying efficiency curve and the best of them will reach
a point in that curve where he will break down him-
self or crack up his plane. The breakdown common
to combat fliers is called operational fatigue."
(The list of unusual dangers with which the flier
has to contend is a long one. So while the medical
problems of aviation ground-crews are much the
same as those of the foot-soldier, the airman pre-
sents a very special case which the Medical Corps
handles through experts in aviation medicine.)
The Medical Department can gauge our Arm\-
morale in any part of the world, and morale can't
be uniform when it involves millions of men. In
Italy, where I was, it wasn't too good. The doctors
28
all told me that the lungth of the line in front of
the clinie at 8 A.M. was directly in proportion to
the morale of tlie troops and to the nearness to the
front. In a sector where morale wasn't good, a doc-
tor in the rear echelon would report by eight o'clock
and he finished hy iiiiio. Farther forward he might
report at eight and not be finished nntil one.
Just what projjortion in line wore gold-bricking
and just what proportion were afflicted with a cold
— or whatever the coniiilaint happened to be — is
something I don't know. But there was very little
gold-bricking in the rear echelon. And the doctors
had a pretty accurate gauge of morale in the num-
ber of ajiplicants who showed up at the hospital.
I am tahcing about non-combat patients. In a few
instances^ — a very fcAv — there were self-inHicted in-
juries, but a boy who inflicted an injury on himself
was usually psychoneurotic to a degree. I remember
seeing one who had shot himself in the foot, and the
story, always the same, was: "I was cleaning my
gun and it went off."
But the men who were genuinely hurt werc^ \'ery
cooperative with the doctor whereas the others were
evasive in their answers. One lad had taken his shoe
off and then shot his foot and imi the shoe back
on again. In general, gokl-biicking is a very reliable
measure of morale.
Another thing: The men who pass through the
hands of the Army doctors, after having been
wounded in battle, are a different kind of animal
than the soldiers who haven't suffered physically
at the hands of the enemy. They have a more sub-
stantial realization of what the wai' is about. I re-
member in particular seeing the reaction of about
5,000 soldiers in a personnel replacement depot.
That was where wounded boys went after recupera-
tion — before being sent back to the United States,
into limited service oi' back to combat again.
One night the men had assembled in the big
grandstand of a horse-racing track where the re-
placement depot was located, and they were waiting
for the sun to sink sufficiently so that the movies
would be visible on the screen. Dui'iiig this wait
there were some news flashes over the loudspeaker.
One of the flashes from home was that the cost of
the war to the United Stales up to that time had
far exceeded one hundred billion dollars, but that
America was ready to spend another billion dol-
lars to speed victory.
You could hear a gasp of surprise and a wave of
muttered exclamations of disgust and curses. These
boys, who didn't think at all In terms of dollars,
much less in terms of billions of dollars^wlio had
lost completely any habit of thinking in such terms
— suddenly heard this statement, which was so ir-
relevant to tlmt ^-ertebra that had been pulled out
of place, or the bullet in the thigh or arm. To hoar
tin' war expressed in t-erms of dollars was a shock.
The very infliction of a wound in battle gives a
man a different slant. Consequently I think the
Medical Corps more than any separate department
of the Army has a liarticularly advantageous posi-
tion insofar as gauging the change that comes to
veterans of combat. I met many boys who had been
in four amphibious invasions, and one who had been
in five, and up to a certain point they became battle-
toughened veterans. After that point their efficiency
— hut more their spirit — definitely dropped.
The number of venereal patients treated by the
Medical Corps was the biggest problem in certain
areas — that is, statistically. In the South Pacific,
malaria took precedence.
So far as medical prt)]ihylaxis for venereal dis-
ease was concerned, there certainly was no short-
age. The doctors had to deal with the final results,
but there was a whole prior chain of events. A kid
was subjected to nervous strain and tension during
battle, and on his leave he didn't dehberately de-
eid(! to find a female and become infected with
venereal disease— although on occasion it is a form
of gold-bricking — but he simply got drunk and care-
less. I should say that about 95 pei' cent of the boys
so infected were drunk. They were drunk and ir-
responsible, and they forgot.
On any reports having to do with a patient,
whether dischai'ged or otherwise, always was the
clause: "Jn the line of duty — yes; In the line of
duty — no." Of course if a boy got careless and was
hospitalized with pneumonia, it was in the line of
duly. But not so in the case of venereal disease.
There are two sides to this problem. On the one
hand you have doctors invoking the Ilippocratic
oath that a patient is a patient and should be so
treated. But on the other hand, a man of about 50
said to me in great heat:
"Hirsch, you are an artist. You want to got back
and paint pictures. I want to get back to cardiology.
Everybody wants to get back. And those who de-
liberately or accidentally become infected venereally,
in sx^ite of all the provisions that the Medical Corps
29
has to prevent infection, are absenting themselves
from tlieir jobs in the Army. They are occujjying
hospital beds where bad cases should be. They are
prolonging the war."
(These two viewpoints of course raise the much
debated question of whether fighting men who con-
tract venereal disease should be punished. Tlie
method of deaUng with this troublesome problem
varies in different countries. Some inllict heavy
penalties, especially where the disease is contracted
through infraction of rules.)
In the army there is nothing backward about the
preventive measures, although in many areas of
America there are backward people. All over the
war theatre there were signs: "Beware of V.D.,"
or "Caution — V.D.," or in some places "Venereal
disease bad." The prophylaxis stations bore the
sign "Pro Station."
Incidentally, a very funny thing happened in con-
nection with these "pro station" signs. Shortly
after we moved into Naples, the Army public rela-
tions office, where all the correspondents checked in
— British and American — posted a sign outside.
This was "PKO," meaning public relations office,
but the initials weren't separated by periods. As a
result it was several times confused for a "pro
station" by bewildered GIs who ran into it.
In Jaimary of 1944, before the Allied Control
Commission Avas set up in the Naples area, our
Army Medical Corps had the responsibility of com-
bating the seriously threatening epidemic of typhus.
It was serious insofar as it contaminated the area
and the civilians — even though none of our inocu-
lated soldiers contracted the disease — for we used
Itahans to drive our jeeps and to do our work for
us. Contamination of food and water supplies would
be very dangerous. The Medical Corps did splendid
work.
I went around with the hce-squad one night when
wo visited nine underground "recoveros" or air-
raid shelters. Two or three of them were without
doubt the filthiest places 1 ever have seen, including
some of the slum areas in Spain and Shanghai. The
shelters were damp and there were puddles of urine.
My flashlight picked up squashed rats. It was in the
air-raid shelters that the typhus epidemic spread,
and we sent down men with DDT powder. By using
that powder and a lot of elbow grease they held the
line and won the battle. But it was serious in Janu-
ary of '44.
About six or seven miles outside Naples the Fas-
cists had a World 's Fair in 1940, and on the site of
these fair grounds the United States Army set up
a medical center. This consisted of live or six hos-
pitals. One of my paintings shows an orthopedic
ward — a couple of rows of beds with our banged-up
boys, and back of them on the walls by the high
ceilings were big Fascist photo murals of an Italian
soldier and Mussolini's ideology in quotation. Bom-
bardment by us and later by the Germans had
cracked the walls, I thought the juxtaposition of the
cracking walls and the broken bones in the boys be-
ing mended made a striking picture. On top of these
murals — as another example of GI impudence and
disdain — were pin-up girls. The incongruity was
wonderful I
The diversity of the Medical Coi'ps undertakings
was amazing. I visited an evacuation hospital de-
voted entirely to the treatment of our Allies. I saw
a seventy-year-old woman being cared for in an
Army hospital.
A Corpsman carried a woman, who was about to
have a baby, out of the path of a stream of lava
from Vesuvius. Then, about twenty minutes before
the lava came down, a corps doctor delivered her
while the volcanic ashes dropped around them. This
doctor also attended two sheep belonging to the
woman.
So far as the psychoneurotic question is con-
cerned, it is the biggest problem in relation to the
knowledge which we have to combat it. We know a
lot about broken bones, and about malaria, but not
so much about psychoneurosis.
Many boys who were temporarily psychoneurotic
would insist upon being sent back to the front and
it wasn't very often that the doctors refused such
a request. A general hospital was the only one which
could send a soldier back to the United States.
One soldier arrived in Algiers from Naples on his
way home — a psychoneurotic case — who apparently
was the victim of a mistake on tlie part of the doc-
tors in Naples, since he seemed to be normal. But
one day while he was in hospital in Algiers an
airplane zoomed low over the building in violation
of regulations — and this so-called normal boy was
found under his bed completely shaken.
When a soldier was sent home, it was for a very
good reason. Many were assigned to permanent
limited service.
Simulated psychoneurosis is really a form of the
affliction. A man Avho is willing to bo branded as a
neurotic — as having cracked — is, to a degree, neu-
rotic. If he is crazy enough to shoot himself in the
leg, he has reached what they call his emotional
threshold.
The problem of how long to keep men in combat
is naturally a serious one. 1 questioned some Ger-
man prisoners about this, at a compound where sev-
eral hundred of Ihem were being treated by their
own doctors under American supervision. I asked
two German doctors how to explain the absence of
psychoneurosis cases in a hospital taking care of
700 prisoners.
Their explanation was that the German spartan
CTivironment — the early military training — ^was more
re-enforcing than American football, basketball and
30
tennis. My own explanation was that tliose Germans
who were sufficiently close to us to be captured were
healthy. I figured that they must have cases which
were not in the front lines.
The German doctors did say that letters from
home indicated there were a lot of psychoneurotic
disturbances among the civilians. Somehow I didn't
think that was a shame.
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31
6
D Day in Normandy
1 riE United States Army Medical Corps Avon a
Purple Heart on tlie historic D-Day of June 6, 1944
— for the Oorpsnien swarmed u]> onto tlie shell-
swept, bloody beaclios of Normandy with the first
thi-ee waves of Allied fii;hting men.
This greatest of all amphibious invasions was
much as the exports had dreamed it would be. An
Allied armada of 4,00U shl^js drove across a stormy
English Channel towards the five landing beaches
which had been selected. There had been a heavy air
bombardment Ihe night before, and as the fleet
moved in with ihe coming of the dawn every gnn
went into action. Cruisers and destroyers rammed
their iioses riglit up to the shore, and some even
struck bottom.
Our greatest losses at the outset were on the
heavily mined beaches which were under a vicious
enemy cross-fire. Because of these mines we couldn't
bury the dead until D-f3, as the engineers were
so busy clearing out mines for the forces that the
graveyards had to wait.
The Corpsmen were among the earliest arrivals
on the beach-heads and their losses were heavy. The
medical men had their httle stations along the sands
and were not only under shell-fire but were sniped
continually by the Germans. Surgeons performed
major operations on these l)cach-heads.
All the members of the corps had been specially
traiued in Knglaud for this great emergency, and
they did a grand job. Many of them didn't sleep
for 48 hours, for the wounds were bad in those first
few days.
]\[edical supplies kept coming from Britain in
the narrow water lanes wliich Allied vessels had
swept through the German mine fields. The landing
boats Avhicli took troops to the beach-heads brought
wouiulcd back to the ships. Some of these landing
craft were specially fitted so that stretchers could
be put on them in tiers.
Into this unprecedented scene, fortune flung Art-
ist Lawrence Beall Smith, who risked his life to
gather the story which he now presents:
In England when they were getting set for D-Day
there was a terrific sense of the impending event —
of the probabilities that there would he awful cas-
ualties. Preparations never before envisaged were
made to meet the anticipated casualties.
During the last week the tension was fUmost un-
bearable. You couldn't help but know that things
were moving. Many war eorrespondcuts and pho-
tographers had left London and were on their way.
It was very reasonable to assume that things were
pretty close.
There was a stepping up of air activity. Every
morning the noise of the bombers going over seemed
to be greater. If you went down into what they
called the "restricted area" near the coast it was
obvious that things were ready. From the looks of
the jjlace they couldn't find much more room for
men and supplies. The troops had been waiting
without leave for two and a half months. It couldn't
last much longer.
On the morning of D-Day it was obvious that the
great moment had arrived, because the roar of the
warplanes overhead was incredible. There were hun-
dreds of them in the air at once. You could feel the
released tension in London after it was announced
that the invasion was under way.
But to start at the beginning, I left New York in
February and made my headquarters in London.
The first material I went after was air corps medi-
cine, and my point of departure was the American
Eighth Air Force Headquarters. The Eighth was
fiying B-17's and this created a big medical prob-
lem, since these were ten-man planes.
I got to see the constant operation in connection
with what, at that time, was an enormous offiuisive.
There was a vast diii'erenco between air corps modi-
cine and ground medicine. For instance, they were
having a lot of trouble with frost-bite. Gunners got
their fingers frozen from the cold air coming
through the vents by their guns. Sometimes the face
or eyes would be badly frozen. The nose of the ship
might be sawed off and allow an inrush of destruc-
tive frigid air. If men forgot to put on their gloves
in bailing out, their hands would freeze. Frost-bite
sometimes caused gangrene. Tliis could be checked
but the treatment was slow and laborious.
The whole set-up for medical treatment in con-
nection with the air corps warfare was well stabi-
lized. Each one of the air bases would have several
station hospitals within a few miles, so that the men
who did come back wounded could be transported
easily to a well-equipped hospital.
32
Thoy had many rest honu'S which were not con-
valescent places but establishniouts to which they
could send those men wlio were on the verge of a
nervous breakdown or who needed simple release
from tension. The strain in the air war is complete
unto itself so far as the husiness of bombers is con-
cerned. These men fly through fiak over a target.
The\' know that sooner or later they are bound to
get hit. It's just a case of sweating out their series
of missions and trusting to luck. There is very little
maneuvering they can do.
Unlike \ho infantrymen who live in niiserahle
surroundings all the time, day and night in mud
and cold, these fliers go oft" 07i their missions at
dawn — long missions may take ton Innirs — and when
thoy return to base llioy get a shower, fresh clothes,
and go to an officers' club. There the>' have a pleas-
ant bar wlxere they get plenty to drink and to eat.
Then they go away at dawn the next morning.
Their day is divided into torrifie danger and al-
most complete normalcy. This causes the tension
which results in breakdowns, as does the steady diet
of the infantry. It is a particular kind of teiision
that the infantry doesn't understand.
The rest homes were instituted with the idea that
they would give just as little suggestion of war as
was possible. At these rest homes the mm got ont of
uniform. They broke all routine and they slept
throughout the day if they wanted to do so. This
made a complete change. Some airmen reacted vio-
lently the first couple of days. They wanted to finlsli
their missions. After that, however, they were ail
rigJit. They had every conceivable kind of thing to
keep them entertained.
D-Day found me in the throes of credential diflR-
culties, which T iimdly solved on June 11. After the
first night of the V-1 bomb I left the next day for
sontliern Kngland to witness the return of early
casualties.
I watched this constant procession of the wounded
as they came from the beach-heads. They were
brought back on enormous IjSTs and then were
transferred to smaller LCTs which ^vent into tlie
English beaches. By the time the TjRTs came back
they were the most miserable sights T ever have
seen. The weather couldn't have been worse. The
problem with the LSTs was the fact that it was a
14-hour trip from the time they started, and then
there was aiiollnn- five or six hours waiting for tides,
and sometimes aii' i-aids or storms lield them uj).
There were occasions when the casualties were
packed on the tank decks for two or three days be-
cause of such complications. Another difficulty from
the medical standpoint was that the wounded had to
be handled so often during this transporting. The
t'orpsmi'n would put them on one shij), transfer them
to another, and then carry them to ambulances.
That was three handlings. Manv of them were se-
vere litter cases and each move meant a strain.
Among the thousands of wounded whom 1 saw
returning from Normandy, I seldom heard a groan
out of anybody. A huge transport would be full of
wounded men, many of them in agony, but rarely
would you hear a moan or a complaint. T think it
was mostly a matter of mass feeling. If one man had
o])ened up, ten others would have told him to shut
up. The woumled didn't often ask attention of any
man. They just acce])ted their particular fate.
At Portland they built special docks for the
LfSTs. AVliile they were unloading wounded men
from one ship they were loading another nearby
with fresh troops and taiiks. It was psychologically
bad and the confusion was terrible. The atmosphere
was tense.
The transportation problem alone was staggering.
Just as far as the eye could see there was that end-
less, steady stream of vehicles. The unloading of an
LST was a slow, laborious job. Xeyro litter bearers
would take oft' the casualties one by one until the
smaller ships were filled.
They had two Navy doctors attached to the L8T
and after the heavy ru.sh began they added an Army
doctor. AVith them were non-professional {'orpsmcn
and anyone else who could help. The wounded ran
to over 400 on one of these ships. The walking
wounded were on the top deck, weather permitting.
One of the enormous problems for the artist was
the fact that this whole operation was so vast that
it almost staggered you to know where to begin.
Yon saw thousands of casualties. You saw liion-
sands of ships — -wounded men coining in ajid fr<'sii
troops and supplies pouring out. There was ma-
terial to use everywhere and always tin? kTiowlcdge
tliat you wouldn't have time to do it all. It was just
a question of tryiug to pick out cliaraeleristic things
which hil you as pietoi'ial.
After al)0ut five days there I hopped an LST and
took a trip across to Normandy. I went in on what
was known as Omaha Beach. I arrived right after
33
the big storm and it looked as though another in-
vasion iiad taken place. It was a terrific mess. Small
ships wore ci-ashed up on the beach and there were
a few sunken craft in front of it. Many of the place-
ments and piers, which the seabees and engineers
had built, were askew or completely destroyed.
Wg carried over a complete set of tanks on the
tank-deck, and after we had run our huge ship up
on tlie beach I watched the whole procession of
tanks roar down to the shore. It wasn't more than
half an hour after they departed, and the odor of
carbon monoxide was still in the air, when they
started to bring in the casualties. Litters were
placed on the ship where the treads of the tank tires
still showed — these monstrous tanks going out first
and then the miserable litter cases coming in. All
this was during a blackout with intermittent enemy
planes overhead, which emphasized the macabre
feature of tlie thing.
All the men attached to the Medical Corps were
working very hard, right around the clock. Carry-
ing litters, for instance, is a tough job. They are
heavy. The litter men were under the constant
strain of going up inclines without shaking the
patients. They really worked like dogs to fill a whole
ship with casualties.
I hitched a ride with one of the ambulances which
had brought wounded men to our ship. It was as
black as ink. You couldn't see a thing. I rode on this
ambulance to the original D-Day clearing station
which was right on the beach-head behind the air
strip. The fighting was very, heavy in the direction
of St. L6.
I went to the field hospital attached to the 29th
Division in the St. L6 sector. I spent the rest of my
time in Normandy with that division and with the
30th, alternating between the two as the fighting
shifted. I made my headquarters at the field hos-
pital, going up into the forward areas during the
day.
The first medical unit was the battalion aid sta-
tion which was connected with the infantry and was
usually a hundred yards behind the line. Generally
a few hundred yards behind the aid station was a
collecting company. The transportation of the
wounded between these two was done by jeep, which
was a big advance over the last war. These jeeps
would carry three or four litter cases. At the col-
lecting station Iho wounded might be given a little
more treatment. Then they were put into ambu-
lances and were rushed back to a clearing station.
The clearing station was a clearing point for all
types of wounded, from the man who had a scratch
on one of his fingers to the chap with a severe
abdominal wound. The men who were badly hurt
were not transported back any farther but were
sent across to the field hospital, which was attached
to the clearing station.
Only grave cases, however, went across to the
field hospital from the clearing station — cases in
which men were in danger of dying if they were
moved any farther back from the front. The other
wounded were sent to evacuation hospitals in the
rear.
The field hospital was the farthest forward that
surgery went. They tried to keep the field hospital
four to six miles back from the fighting zone. They
figured that four miles was the closest point at
which they still could have a degree of safety from
artillery.
Because of the closeness of the field hospitals to
the front, almost invariably they were set up near
units of our own artillery. That was a deafening
place for men who were so sick, especially when our
guns started barrages. Then the ground literally
shook. Gunfire would do anything but quiet the
nerves of men in that condition. All of them liad
suffered shock and had to be brought out of it be-
fore they could be operated upon.
"When one of the big barrages opened up, it
started about 5 :30 in the morning and went on for
perhaps two solid hours. The gun batteries were
on both sides of the field hospitals. It sounded as
though they were automatics.
At the clearing station there was a place where
they had battle exhaustion eases. During one of the
barrages some of these men went completely hay-
wire and tried to dig fox-holes in the ground with
their hands. They had to be rounded up like sheep.
This was going on in all of the tents in a less ob-
vious way. Most of the wounded felt the same al-
though they were too sick to move. Every one of
these chaps in the field hospital was a very sick man
or he would have been sent farther back out of the
noise.
Most of the treatment of battle exhaustion was
by giving sleeping pills. The men slept their ex-
haustion off and were sent right back into the linos.
These particular men who "blew their tops" had
just moved in that afternoon and had not yet been
treated. Most of these exhaustion cases snapped out
of it. A few did not.
At that time whole-blood was being supplied by
Britain. "Whole-blood is much more beneficial than
plasma. Shock breaks a man's blood down and this
will kill him in a very short time unless his blood
is replaced. The blood content of the body is great
and a wounded man has to have a lot given him
before he comes out from shock.
So pint after pint of whole-blood was used and
at one point the outfit I was with ran out of it.
There were two shock tents, containing thirty men
each, and they could only be brought out of shock
by pouring blood into them. The doctors got about
eight volunteers from the exhaustion tent. These
weary men gave their blood. They volunteered al-
34
though they appeared to be out on their feet. It was
an impressive sight.
The shock tents were terribly quiet places. They
had a certain atmosphere about them — a kind of
tension — that was depressing. Thcsre was little rav-
ing. The men lay very still and breathed hard. There
was the feeling in many instances that it was a
borderline case. Would the blood do it, 6v would it
not?
The combat at this time was mainly a battle of
hedgerows. The Americans would gain a hedgerow
across a field and the Germans would counterat-
tack. Most of the figliting seemed to be with artil-
lery, mortars and mines, all of which caused terrible
wounds. It was seldom during the time I was there
that I saw a I'ealiy clean bullet wound. The men had
multiple wounds.
During pushes the Army Medical Corps surgical
teams worked 16-hour shifts. They had auxiliary
surgical imits which would move from one platoon
to another. All iield hospitals had three platoons
and when one platoon would get heavy casualties, an
auxiliary would go up and help out.
The auxiliary team generally was composed of a
commanding officer — usually a major — three sur-
geons, an anesthetist and four eidisted handy-men,
who worked in many capacities and took the x)lace
of nurses. One of these units had been through the
Salerno and Anzio landings and this was its third
invasion.
They had imrses at the field hospitals. It was a
rough life for a woman. They didn't go any farther
forward at that time than the field hospital. It was
a tough spot and a very uncomfortable existence.
In the first jjhice they were moving all the lime. As
the front would advance they would pack up and
follow on. The speed of the movement made it diffi-
cult.
There was intermittent German air activity at
night. The danger was mostly from our own flak,
which was sent up and had to come down. Most of
the nurses looked weary, but they did a wondci'ful
job and the fact that they were there helped a great
deal. The psychological effect was very good. At
least one nurse worked in the shock tent all the
time.
Sometimes it was necessary to dig fox-holes for
protection against bombing. However, as the battle
progressed there wasn't as much enemy air activity
as had been expected. The fox-holes were dug with a
httle less enthusiasm than at first.
The Germans didn't use any flying bombs in Nor-
mandy while I was there. These were miserable
things. The robots which came over the area seemed
to be on their way somewhere else. Seldom did any-
thing drop. But our flak was sent up, and it fell
down on the tents.
The operating rooms were all blacked-out. The
tents were fool-proof so far as light was cmicerned,
liaving been specially constructed. At the entrance
they put double doors and two curtains. Most of the
surgical tents that I saw had an inner lining of
white. They found that the light reflected olf this
white sheeting.
The lighting was done with portable dynamos and
was just adequate, but it Avas all they e()uld get with
the power they had. They had accessory lighting
wiiich would show ufj the specific feature of an
operation. During the rush period I often helped
by holding a little handlight that was made with a
coux)le of tins which had held blood plasma. This
sx)otlight was devised by an enlisted Corpsman.
One of the surgeons was a chest specialist, and I
watched him frequently. I became fascinated by the
whole business. 1 saw hundreds of operations of all
kinds and occasionally found myself doing things
which I never had thought that I could do. At one
time I held a leg that was being amputated. Thus
much of the material in surgery appealed to me
clinically greatly, but pictorially was far behind
other subjects which I chose.
The doctors and enlisted Oorpsmen wore quick
to meet emergencies and improvise. They were
forced to do this by the conditions under which they
lived. The surgical teams I was with hit the beach-
head about D + 1. One of these teams hung there
on Omaha Beach, just hoping they could live to
do something. All that could be done at that time
was temporary first aid. They didn't set up surgery
for some time after that.
The surgeons in the majority of the groups that
I observed were from 35 to 46 years old. I saw two
men at the field hospital who must have been in
their fifties. It Avas a rough life for a man of that
age, to say nothing of the 16-liour shift strain.
The surgical specialists, of course, had to pitch
in. They might have a dozen chest cases alone. They
sometimes performed two and three major opera-
tions on one man, and they didn't know how these
boys lived through it. I saw one case where two
surgeons worked on the same man. He had an arm
amputated and then had a stomach operation. They
turned him over and found the whole fleshy part
of one of his legs gone. They were afraid of gan-
grene and so they cut away a great deal of tissue.
All three of these things were done under the same
anesthesia. Four days later this boy was better off
than some of the others.
Sometimes there were double amputations. One
amputation is a terrific shock. They did everything
they could to save a limb. In cases of bad wounds
they would try to fix the main artery and would
go to immense pains to avoid amputation. They al-
ways had consultations on all amputations.
35
The woiuuled wore moved from the field hospital
at the earliest possible time. Since the field hos-
pital was constantly filling up, the men had to be
evacuated. They were so sick that their post-opera-
tive care was an enormous problem. "When a field
liospital moved forward, it very often was neces-
sary to leave post-operative eases beiiiiid under the
care of one of the doctors.
The minute a man could he moved be was sent
to the evacuation liospital. There he might be op-
erated on for a second time or have a new cast put
on a fracture. The evacuatioiL hospital wms a well-
equipped and fairly stable unit, and the general
hospital was even more so. They were tent hospitals,
but huge, and had many nurses and doctors. The
surgical tent would have 15 operations going on all
at once. The first general hospital arrived in Xor-
mandy early in July. Most of the cases were going
from the evacuation hospitals by air or by ships to
general hospitals in l^higland.
The Array Medical Corps had many unusual sit-
uations to meet. I remember that once when I was
in England one of our bombers crashed and blow
uji, and 10 of the men were killed. Tt was the first
mission for all of them. The force of the explosion
boosted me out of bed at the base, a mile and i\ half
away. The Medical Corps had to take care of these
casualties, as there was no one else to do it. It was
a question of salvaging as much as they could. They
got the equivalent of six bodies out of the wreckage.
(This is Smith's picture "Death of a B^]7.")
I was with a collecting company unit which set
up at a village outside of St. L6. This was about
800 yards back of the fighting line and the villnge
was ill flames. The unit had one tent and they put
it up in the churchyard. They hadn't been there for
more than half the day when the Germans began
pouring shells all around this area, and the unit
suffered two casualties. The Corpsmen moved to a
safe spot and then 24 hours later came back to the
same place and re-established themselves. (This
scene is depicted in Smith 's * * Sunday in Nor-
mandy.")
When this unit set up in the cemetery the men
started to dig their fox-holes right away. The fox-
holes looked like graves, and the fellows scattered
all over digging these holes appeared rather ghoul-
ish. Incidenlally, it was extremely interesting to see
how many churches stood up under fire. They must
have been pretty well built.
(There perhaps was a further reason why these
churches sui'vived. During the last war the writer
saw mmicrous instances in France where churches
were left standing because gunners and bombers
deliberately avoided hitting them.
(There was, for example, the case of the Golden
Virgin which stood atop the church in the town of
Albert, on the Somme. This was a heroic size figure
of the Virgin, holding the Christ Child, and you
could see it for miles aci'oss the valley when the
sun glinted off the gilt. Both Allied and German
fighting men did their best to avoid damage to this
statue, and the tradition grew up that the side
Avhich destroyed the Golden Virgin would lose the
war. Finally one day a German gunner shot down
the statue^ — and sure enough, the Reich was de-
feated.)
The aid men to me were an extremely heroic lot.
I tried in one picture to show a typical aid man.
All were haggard, and very tired. They seemed like
young old men; they had a kind of haunted look.
They were the first medical help that the wounded
man got. They were under fire just as much as the
infantry. They didn't carry arms and were abso-
lutely non-combatant. Their only jjrotectiou was the
red cross.
The red cross was plastered all over them. Only
seldom was the red cross not respected by the Ger-
mans. One surgical team, which went in with the
gliders on D-Day, set up in an open field. They had
a big tarpaulin with a red cross on it, and they were
left unmolested.
(The reader should note that' Artist Smith is
speaking of Normandy. There were instances in
other Fjuropean theatres in which the Germans did
not resx^ect the red cross.)
These battalion aid men were on the firing line
with the troojjs. They rushed to the wounded men
who had fallen, gave them morphine and any other
emergency treatment feasible. The aid men carried
a fair am<mnt of eiiuipment and could give j)Iasma
or bandage a wound. The injured man was provided
as much shelter as possible, had a tag put on him
and ordinarih^ was left for the litter bearers to
pick u|) and take to the battalion aid station. Some-
times the aid man himself would carry back the
wounded soldier.
Tliere was no tent for the battalion aid station.
It was located in any likely s[)ot — under a ti'ee or a
hedgerow. There was a doctor and he had enough
equipment to give temporary first aid. He didn't
attempt surgery, for the most part.
However, they got the man on a litter or jeep
back to the collecting station in a few minutes. The
speed of evacuation was remarkable. Within an hoar
or two a man would be moved to a field hospital
from the point at which he fell on the battlelield.
The efficiency struck me as being extraordinary.
The aid men used to come back a few hundred
yards from the front to a collecting station, for the
purpose of rest and quiet. The station was likca
grand hotel to thom. These boys would be sleeping
in the fox-holes at the collecting station when they
would be awakened and told that it was time to go
up to the battalion aid station. They would hop on
a jeep and oft" they would go to the front again.
36
My reaction was that the Corpsmen get into the
spirit of the thing just as the doctors do. They feel
like men who are treating siok people rather than
like GIh assigned to duty at a given point.
So far as the surgeons and other medical men
were concerned it was a chance for them to do pro-
fessional work and experimentation. They handled
eases they never would get in civilian life — cases
that perhaps they never would see again.
They did fantastic feats of surgery but they
rarely could follow their cases through. They didn't
learn w^hethor the men upon whom they had op-
erated had survived. Most of the surgeons didn't
try to check up on their cases.
Apropos of this, before going to Xormandy T had
encountered in lOngland the case of a German pris-
oner who had been operated on in the lighting zone.
The doctors in Britain couldn't understand why the
operation had been performed in a certain unusual
way. After 1 got to Normandy I happened to men-
tion this case to one of our doctors, and he re(*alled
that he had performed the operation. He had a good
reason for doing it as he did, and was delighted
to hear how it turned out.
Speaking of German prisoners, enemy wounded
were treated in the same way as our own men, with
the exception that the Americans always were given
priority. For instance, on TjSTs all German walk-
ing wounded were the last off the ship and were
the last in line at the hospitals.
There was a delinite feeling of tension between
American paratroopers and German prisoner
wounded on the LSTs. The iirst day I was on an
LST I went down into the tank deck and it took mc
a half hour to get my equilibrium. T had just been
reading Tolstoy's "War and Peace," and the
stench and the atmosphere on the tank dock were
exactly as in the hospital scene described by the
book.
A wounded man motioned to me and pointed to
the blanket wliioh had fallen off his injured leg. I
put the blanket back, and an American soldier lying
nearby called to me;
"I'll bet there is no other place in the world
where that thing could happen."
It was a German prisoner for whom I had re-
arranged the blanket. I hadn't known that at the
time.
When my work in Normandy was done I flew back
to London and prepared for the return home. I came
back to the States on a hospital ship which was
making its maiden voyage, and the continued treat-
ment of the wounded men on the vessel was inter-
esting.
Tlicrc w^ere about 500 patients on the ship all
told. Some appeared to be hopeless cases. Then there
were a lot of very bad cases which were out of
danger so far as death was concerned although they
had a long hill ahead of them. These were sent back
to the States as soon as possible.
The ship was a floating palace, and it had won-
derful medical equipment. The wards wore con-
gested because all available places were filled with
beds, and there Avere many double-decker bunks.
They brought across mental cases and there was a
special place for them.
It was a beautiful set-up. The food wns excel-
lent, and the men who were able to get out could
enjoy the sun and had a good rest.
37
7
B
urma
Hoad
h Ew THEATRES of War hold so much human m-
terest as Burma, due partly to the mystery sur-
rounding this primeval region which pokes its head
up into China and Tibet right under the ''roof of
the world," and partly to the fact that over a long
and dangerous period for the Allies it was the life-
line of hard-hit China to outside countries.
Few theatres, too, produced such abnormal anil
onerous military problems. Great names hll the his-
tory of the Allied campaign which finally evicted
the Japanese from this strategic territory — Stilwell,
Merrill and his Marauders, Chennault, Wingate and
his Raiders, and others. All these dared mightily in
the Burmese jungle and in the adjacent fields of
towering Chinese mountains to smash the Mikado's
men and re-open the famous Burma Road.
Tlie most difficult part of this warfare in the
wilds wasn't the tight against the Japanese, but
against Mother Nature herself who used this age-
less zone as a laboratory for strange and awful ex-
periments. There in the dense jungle the warring
forces fought fierce heat and humidity, diseases
that killed, and terrible forms of death from crawl-
ing things.
Into this wilderness went the United States Army
Medical Corjjs, to play a vital part in the Allied
victory. The task of recording the corps' activities
on canvas was assigned to Howard Baer, whose pic-
tures in this book afford an accounting of his stew-
ardship. As in the case of our other artists, I passed
long hours with Baer, listening to the story of his
experiences — an account in which I was doubly in-
terested because I knew India, the Burma Road,
and China at first-hand. Here is what he told me:
I flew into the jungle from India in a hospital
plane at the beginning of May, 1944, and landed
about 50 miles from the headquarters of General
Stilwell (General Joseph W. Stilwell, commander
of the Chino-American forces in Burma, who was
affectionately known as "Uncle Joe"). He was at
Shadazup, southeast of Ledo, and I had to proceed
from the airfield by jeep.
(At this time Stilwell 's armies and engineers were
extending the Ledo Road southeastwards from the
Indian province of Assam toward Myitk>iiia m or-
der to make a junction with the Burma Road. There
was bloody fighting, for the Japanese Avere in force
in that part of northern Burma.)
It was the monsoon season with its heavy^ rains,
and the field we landed on was just a soupy mass.
It was very difficult to get the planes up, and some-
times they couldn't land at all because it had rained
so much for several days. Clay is the basic sub-
stance in that region, and as we went along the
road there would be ruts so big that the jeep would
be hung up. That was the normal condition of the
terrain.
Stilwell 's headquarters was on the Ledo Road,
around which the jungle formed a solid wall. A man
could be 15 paces awfiy and you wouldn't see
him. Every morning you were awakened about five
o'clock by the weird chattering of monkeys. You
never could see them, but they were on all sides.
There were many sorts of flowers and strange
plants. Trailing vines crept everywhere.
On and off the rains were a deluge, and some-
times there were terrible winds like hurricanes, so
strong that they would rip limbs off trees. The tem-
perature was hot and sticky — running from 110° to
120° F. You couldn't toll where the sweat ended
and the rain began, and so I often left my raincoat
off. We slept in jungle hammocks that had mosquito-
net sides. They were shaped like a coffin. The
wounded were on cots under nets.
The new road was being built while we fought the
Japs. They were all around us — always infiltrating
— always sniping. They also bombed the medical
camps, but the jungle provided a natural camou-
flage.
The American Medical Corps was divided into
platoons, and each platoon was located in a diil'erent
section. The corps looked after Stilwell's picked
Chinese troops, our American fighting engineers
and Merrill's Marauders which comprised the U. S.
forces in Burma.
I was with the medical platoon which was closest
to the front. It was one of the portable surgical
outfits which were the first to give a wounded man
operative treatment. Before that he got quick band-
aging at the first-aid station. vVmbulancos would go
from the portable hospital to the first-aid station
from which Chinese stretcher-bearers worked out
into the firing zone. Our portable outfit, which was
about three miles from the fighting front, was in
little tents like a circus.
38
The majority of the doctors were young — in their
twenties. It was a great experience for them be-
cause they were experimenting in many ways. They
were terrifically energetic and worked all the time.
Even the deiilists were doing operatioDs on other
parts of the body. As a result every doctor got vast
experience in operatiiig.
The Cochins — -aborigines who were head-hunters
before the war — helped to carry in the wounded
and also fought the Japs. Those natives were
brought into our service in a peculiar way. The jun-
gle is tilled with huge leeches^ — some several inches
long — which drop from the trees and fasten them-
selves on human beings. If they are pulled oif Ihey
may cause terrible sores. The best way to get them
off is with salt or with a lighted match. AVell, the
Cochins were filled with sores from these leeches.
Our medics curetl 1hem, nnd as a result the Cochins
were so grateful that they offered their help. They
were of great assistance to our troops in the jungle.
Our platoon had tents with open sides. There was
also a baslia^ — a little hut of bamboo poles with open
sides and planks for tables. The whole outfit could
be torn down and put on the road for moving to a
new position within two hours. AYe went forward in
trucks. Including surgeons and Gls there were
about ;>0 men involved.
The hospital tent was divided into two. One was
the reception part, to which the patients were
brought in ambulances. There tlie wounded men
were given morphine and a tetaims injection, and
after that came plasma. Up to this point the patient
had been given sulfa and had been bandaged out at
the front. In the other part of the hospital tent was
the operating theatre. Each outfit had a generator
which gave the power for lighting. During an air-
raid the current was turned off and all lights Avent
out. Then masked flashlights were used until the
surgeons had finished their work.
There was no end to the care that the surgeons
gave the wounded men. I saw doctors probe for
hours after a shell fragment. Finally they would
take out a piece no bigger than a fingernail.
There were no American women nurses in the
immediate vicinity of the front. The nurses who
were in the jungle were back near Ledo at a place
called Shiiibyaug, where there was an evacuation
hospital carve<l out of the jungle. An evacuation
hospital is a sort of advance base hospital, and this
one was very efficient.
The nurses who were closest to the fighting were
those who came in aboard the hospital planes. AVhen-
ever an airfield was captured, as at Myitkyina, the
hospital planes would land and pick up the wounded.
At that particular place Japanese planes came over
and strafed our hospital planes.
The nurses really were very brave and they did
an excellent job. They would fly with wounded men
who had typhus, malaria, and other terrible dis-
eases that one can contract in the jungle. There
were all sorts of skin infectious to be dealt with,
and sores produced by the leeches and ticks. The
nurses handled these men just like babies.
biach hospital plane carried a surgeon and two
imrses, all members of the U. S. Arm\" Medical De-
partment. The plane had six tiers of brackets upon
which stretcliers were placed, and about :20 wounded
men could be carried.
The evacuation mirses were former air steward-
esses. All of them were very attractive, having been
selected for their civilian jobs Jiot only for ability
but for appearance. These dainty little girls would
handle the Indians, ('hinese, British, Australians,
Americans — a regular hodge-podge of troops — with
equal care.
All these nationalities came into our hospitals.
When they got farther back, there were British
hospitals to take care of them. In the North Burma
jungle they all went through the American Medical
Corps. Wli en our corps had done its work the pa-
tients were transferred to base hospitals in India.
The hospital planes took the wounded straight
back to India. There were cases when a man who
had been wounded near a landing field was in base
hospital within four hours of the lime he was in-
jured.
The ('hinese stretcher-bearers put the wounded in
ambulances and brought them to the portable surgi-
cal unit where the American Medical Corps took
complete charge. There the doctors would give emer-
gency operations and put on piaster bandages to
immobilize the tissue for evacuation to the rear, if
the man was in condition to be flown back. If he
wasn't able to travel he was kept at the station
until he could be moved.
Myitkyiiia airiield was captured in a surprise at-
tack by Merrill's Marauders and Chinese troops.
(Tlie exploits of our General Frank D. Merrill's
special jungle contingent form a sensational chapter
in the history of the fight for Burma.) For a time
this ail-field was the only section that the Marauders
held at Myitkyina and they couldn't go off the field
because the Japs were all around them. They had to
clear the Japs out first.
Eight after the capture of this airfield I came
across the fjimous Colonel Seagrave, the man who
wrote *' Burma Surgeon," operating in a tent. (Art-
ist Baer refers to Lt. Colonel Gordon S. Seagrave,
an American medical missionary, who had practiced
medicine and surgery on the Chinese border of
Burma for some 20 years. In 1942 he joined the
United States Army Medical Corps under Stilwell.)
There were lillers holding wounded Chinese
aromid Colonel Seagrave 's tent. As I stood there,
one wounded man fell over dead. The patient on the
table was dying. The surgeon assisting Seagrave
was pressing on the ribs of the dying man, attempt-
ing to revive him. The Colonel had his hand down
the injured fellow's throat, trying to catch his
tongue which he was swallowing.
There was another operation going on in the same
tent. The Burmese nurses were moving about with
instruments and were handing them to the surgeons
as they Avere called for. A very short distance from
the tent a Chinese 75 mm. gun was going oft" every
half minute. Overhead our planes were circling and
diving — bombing and strafing the Japanese gun
emplacements which were within a quarter of a mile
of the field. There were enemy snipers all around
the field.
The Japanese planes would not attack while our
warplanes were overhead. However, our fliers
couldn't land because there were no facilities for
refueling and so they had to fly back to their bases.
As soon as they went awa\' the Japanese bombers
came over from airfiekls within 10 or 15 miles of the
one we had captured.
The Jajianese bombed Seagrave 's tent, which
bore no red cross. He went right on operating dur-
ing the bombing and strafing. Seagrave is a power-
fully built man, witli a slutck of gray hair. He has
a booming voice and would yell for the instrnments
which he wanted. He was naked to the waist. He
had a mask on at times.
Colonel Seagrave worked under constant high
tension. He was steady, however, paying no atten-
tion to the war that was going on about him. He
tailored day and night. This description, by the way,
ai)i)lied equally to all the surgeons of the U. S.
Army Medical Corps. They were magnificent.
There were many other surgeons in Burma who
likewise were doing splendid work, hut it happened
Ihat Seagrave was the one picked to operate at the
Myitkyina post. The surgeons Avith him were young
Americans who were getting the experience of-their
lives.
Colonel Seagrave had his own portable surgical
unit, Avith about six surgeons and the attending
Gls. He also had about ten Burmese nurses Avith
him. They set up their operating place right on the
airfield. The only protection they had against the
monsoon Avealher Av^as parachutes Avliich had been
used to drop supplies from our airplanes. These
'chutes were red, yellow, green, and blue— each
color designating the type of sui)])ly Avhich Avas be-
ing drojjped. Seagrave set these parachutes up as
tents.
There was no attempt at camouflaging them. The
Japs kncAV avo were there. At a distance of 15
yards the whole set-up looked like a very gay car-
nival. Yet underneath the paraclmtes there Avere
dead and dying Chinese troops and Marauders. Col-
onel Seagrave and his surgeons were operating.
Each group of people took.on the color of the para-
chute under Avhieh they happened to be, as the rain
Avould give way and the sun would strike doAvn
through the silk.
I noted a group of Chinese Avith many kinds of
Avounds undei- a \'elloAv pai'achute. All of them, in-
cluding some dead, Avere colored by the yellow silk.
It Avas a horrible and fascinating effect — entirely-
unexpected and an anomaly in warfare.
This lasted only a couple of days, hoAvever, until
Ave cleared the Japs aAvay from that area. Then Sea-
grave dispensed Avith the colored parachutes and
used huts. All of this happened during the monsoon
deluge, with bursts of sun in betAveen. Incidentally,
the mosquitoes are bad during this season and Sea-
grave's outfit had no mosquito nets to protect them
on the airfield, as the supply had run out.
The strain on the surgeons in that sector Avas
terrific. They were operating in cramped conditions
— under the constant throat of Jap patrols Avliich
Avere popping up through the jungle everywhere —
under the threat of mosquitoes, bugs, heat and rain
— under threat of dysentery, malaria, and scrub
typhus (the reader Avill remember Artist Boggs'
graphic description of this terrible form of typhus
in the Southwest Pacific).
All this cut the men doAvn, and they lost weight.
There Avas atabrine on the dinner table for them, to
Avard off malaria. Some of them refused to take this
medicine because it turned the skin yellow.
The membeis of the corps got taut and nervous,
and if this had gone on long enough it is quite con-
ceiA'able that they Avould haA^e cracked up. But they
stood up under it Avell.
The Avork they Avere doing Avas their life Avork.
The experience in surgery Avas fascinating. They
Avere young men and had an incentive for constant
40
hard toil. They were very enthusiastic about it all.
One surgeon would say to another:
**I'm ji:ettiiijr tired of doing legs. Why don't you
take legs and I'll take chests?"
They also had post-mortem exploratory experi-
ence, examining the havoc that a piece of shell can
cauNc in the body.
I painted aTid sketched operations. I never had
seen an operation before. Usually I can sketch very
rapidly but when the surgeons were at work I found
it very difficult at hrst to follow the operatioii, not
knowing what was going on. Then, too, there was
the smell of ether, and it was very hard to get used
to the sight of the wounds. In each case they would
put a bit into the man's mouth — a clasp that would
prevent him from swallowing his tongue during the
operation. There was n perforation in this clasp and
the breath would come through it in a low, whistling-
sound. It was eerie.
The surgeons were very cooperative and they
would explain things as they went along. I sketched
with fountain pen on typewriter bond-paper. I did
have watercolor paper but I very soon discovered
that the moisture from the rains Avouldu't leave the
heavy paper, so I had to use the thinner bond. After
sketching with a fountain pen I immediately would
slap in water-color so that I would have a moi-e com-
plete sketch for development when I got honi<\
The dampness wns so persistent that most of my
sketches stayed moist until I eventually got hold
of a :105 mm. shell-tube^ — ^a fiber tube with metal
ends which holds the shell — and I rolled my sketches
up and kept them in that, along with rice. Tlie rice
absorbed the moisture and kept my work dry.
While I was at the front there w^ere a number of
air raids. We had shell holes and dugouts to dive
into when the enemy planes came over.
I drove up to the aid station by the firing line in
a jeep with an executi\'e officer. W^e could hear rifle
fire getting louder as we went through the jungle.
It was a nerve-ahattering experience.
There was a solid wall of jungle on either side.
You never knew when you might run into a Japa-
nese patrol. The driver of the jeep got frightened
and wouldn 't go any farther, so we had to get out
and walk the rest of the way. There were fox-holes
spaced every 25 yards or so up the road, and as we
walked along we kept our eyes on the next fox-hole
so that we could dive into it for protection.
There also was danger to us at night from the
Chinese sentries who were likely to shoot quickly
if they heard a stranger coming. They ^\-ould scream
a challenge, and at the same time you would hear
the click of their rifles. You had to act fast. You
turned your flashlight up into your face so that the
sentry could see you, and yelled like hell:
"Ding-how!!"
*' Ding-how" is a broad Chinese term meaning
"very good" or "everything is fine." The Chinese
use it for all sorts of occasions, even in begging
rides, when they stick up their thumbs, smile, and
call out "ding-how."
But to get back to the Medical Corps operations,
surgical teams consisting of approximately two sur-
geons with male nurses, and carrying their medical
kits with them, would go up on the flanks behind
the Japanese lines with Merrill's Marauders and do
emergency oijeralions. The Marauders moved on
foot, traveling light and fast and making surprise
attacks. The surgery was done under very primitive
conditions. Only a local anesthetic was atlministerod.
This is where the Piper Cub plane comes in. As
soon as word was radioed out that there were
wounded, Piper Cubs were flown in and landed in
clearings in the jungle. These little phines evacuated
one wounded man at a time, but in this way many
lives were saved.
The surgical teams were under combat all the
time. Merrill's Marauders were made up of the
toughest, hand-xiicked men who were told when they
volunteered that they would be on the move con-
stantly in the jungle. They were from every walk
of life.
The surgeons operated on a ground sheet. The
operations were more or less crude, the patient
gritting his teeth and taking it. The fortitude of the
injured men was amazing. For example, there was
the case of an American tank-man with the (■hinese
forces. He was gravely burned from liead to toe
when his tank got a direct hit. He tramped two and
a half miles back through the Japanese lines to the
aid station, and then was brought to the portable
surgical station where he was bandaged all over.
(See Baer's picture "Tank Casualty.")
CHINA
After some weeks in Burma I flew into China
over "The Hump" — the famous pinnacle of the lofty
mountain range in that region. The fighting then
was along the Salween River, not far from the
northeastern Burmese frontier.
The medical set-up in China was different. There
were Chinese units which worked side by side with
the AmerieaTi units. American portable surgical out-
fits with the Chinese troops wore called medical pack
trains. These comprised some two-score surgeons
and Corpsmen who would move up over the preci-
pices in the very rugged terrain across the Salween,
with the aid of 15 to 20 Chinese horses which were
built about like Shetland ponies. The Japanese held
the Burma Road in that zone, so the Americans had
to go through the mountains, and the trails were
terribly difficult.
41
Kixoh Amon'caii medieal unit working' with the
Chiiie.se I'orccis had an interpreter. He was called a
'*faniguan."
It was difficult taking- the wounded hack, because
it had to be done by stretcher-bearers. They had to
go up and down huge mouutaiuw, soinetimes carry-
ing the wounded for eight to ten days. Chinese com-
munities in that remote seelor organized into teams
of stretcher-bearers which look part in this work.
The precipitous cliifs and gullies were extremely
hazardous.
In China Hie American Medical Corps couldn't
do as thorough operating as in Burma where the
units were more stationary and therefore more hy-
gienic. They couldn't evacuate wounded by plane
because the terrain was so rugged that they liad no
air-strips. They had to do it Avith stretcher-bearers.
Consequently there was a lot of gangrene.
The American surgical pack trains crossed to the
west side of tlie Salween Kiver — that is, to the side
toward Burnui — and jierformed emergency opera-
tions on the wounded C'hinese who were sent back
by litter. These litter cases had to be got across the
river on pontoons and boats, and then were carried
by stretcher-bearers through the mountains to the
field hospitals on the Burma Road leading to the
city of Kunming. The reason for this was that the
Japanese held the Burma Koad right uj) to tlie west
side of the Salweeii River and consequently a de-
tour had to be made to get on the highway back
of tlie battle area. Once the wounded were in Chi-
nese-held territory they were evacuated by truck
along the Bui-ma Road to the field hospitals.
Our field hospitals worked in conjunction witli
the Chinese hospitals. The latter were converted
temples and ancestral homes, making a very ancient
and dramatic setting for the wounded, with the
Chinese gods in their niches and the injured men in
the cots below. Tlie American field hospitals were
set up in regulation Army tents, and in some places
they liad barracks made of wood.
American Medical Corps forward headquarters
was at Panjau, way down on the Burma Road, and
medical supplies were sent there by truck from
Kunming. The main supply depot was in an ances-
tral home. Halfway between Kunming and the Sal-
ween River was Tali. They would evacuate wounded
from the Burma Road by Chinese junk on Tali Lake
up to the town of Tali. This junk dated back iu
type to Marco Polo.
At Paoshan, on the Burma Road, the Friends had
an ambulance unit. This was comprised of different
nationalities, American as well as British, and cared
for the wounded in the same way as the American
field hospitals. The Friends got their supplies direct
from the British.
Back near Kunming was the rear headquarters of
the American Medical Corps. That was where the
Fourteenth United States Air Force was, and the
main base on the entire lighting front. At Kunming
the corps trained the surgeons and GIs who were
to make up a portable surgical team. There, too, the
horses were taught to carry packs. Here it should
be mentioned that the veterinary outtit worked right
alongside the Medical Corps in the Burma-China
theatre. This was highly important because so much
transportation was done by jjack-horses.
There were twelve or more field hospitals sta-
tioned along the Burma Road between the Salween
River and Kunming. In connection with the move-
ment of medical supplies acrosy the Salween from
Kunming, there Avas at one spot on the bank of the
river a tiny clearing which was used as a landing
field for Cub planes bringing up emergencj' sup-
plies.
The fighting along the Salween River was in the
most rugged terrain imaginable. Tlie convolutions
of the earth were fantastic, shooting up to preci-
pices eight to ten thousand feet high, with narrow
trails winding in and out. The foliage ranged from
scrub pine at the top of the mountains down into
the dense valleys of the jungle, with tlie same threat
of disease as in Burma.
Tlie rocks and the precipices would get very slip-
pery from the rain. The horses would lose their
footing, and there were times when they would slip
over the precipices and drop hundreds of feet. The
Corpsmen then would go down and bring the medi-
cal supplies back on to the precipices, as it was im-
portant not to lose any of the stores.
Once they were across the Salween River they
could have supplies dropped to them by plane, but
there were cases where American Corpsmeii would
live on rice alone for days when the weather would
prevent planes from coming over. This had a haras-
sing effect on those unused to a straight rice diet,
and the Medical Corps was constantly having to re-
place men because they lost weight and got weak
or diseased.
The Burma Road is very rugged. It is an amazing
engineering feat, having been carved out of the
mountain by (Tihiese coolies. They blasted sides of
the mountains and used the stone for the founda-
tion of the road, breaking the big rocks down until
they eventually reduced them to the size of heavy
gravel. A"_l of this was done by the hand of the
coolie.
It is mostly a two-lane drive, with the great preci-
pices thousands of feet deep on one side and, on
the other, huge cliffs jutting up hundreds of feet
above you. It winds around the tortuous Purves of
the mountain like an accordion pleat.
One section had precipices on both side#» of the
road. You di'ove along with the feeUng of an ant on
the edge of a sheet of paper. Trucks would come
careening around these curves. It wasn't unusual to
42
see, hundreds of feet below the road, the smashed
and charred remains of trucks which hadn't made
it. The road was slippery during the rains because
clay would be washed down on to it from the moun-
tains, so that you had to drive in low gear.
It was along this Burma Road, in such terrain,
that the American field hosjntals were stationed.
These field hospitals received their freight of
wounded and passed it back over this harrowing and
dangerous route to the base hospitals at Kunming
and vicinity.
At the airfields throughout China where our men
were flying either fighters or bombers there was a
field hospital set up with doctors and nurses and
with complete facilities for operations. In the case
of wounded men who had to be evacuated from the
air field hospitals to base hospitals, they were flown
back by way of Kunming over The Ilump to the
big base hospital in the Indian province of Assam,
or further on to India proper.
All medical corps supplies for China had to be
flown over The Hump. Apart from ordinary medi-
cal supplies, the few ambulances had to be taken
down completely and in some cases were sawed in
half so that they would fit into a transport plane.
Trucks were taken down to the smallest possible
bit and packed into the planes. There always was
danger of supplies running out in China in case bad
weather prevented passage over The Hump.
It should be emphasized that despite the primitive
conditions under which the U. S. Medical Corps
worked in Burma, it was better and more easily
supplied there than it was in China — and this not-
withstanding the fact that in China the corps opera-
tions were far from the fighting front, except for
the portable surgical units. This was due to the
necessity of flying all the supplies for China over
The Ilump from India, whereas the supplies for
Burma could be taken by road, river or railway for
a considerable distance northward thrf)ugh Assam
Province from India proper, and then could be flown
or carried by truck to the medical unit working
at the fronts.
CHUNGKIKIG
/Vo-t'*^~*-'»-<K 'J (f-^^-^^.
43
8
The Warrior Conies Home
W K HAVE seen in the preeeding chapters and pic-
tures something of the great work done by the
United States Army Medicjil Department in caring
for our sick and wounded fighting men in the the-
atres of wai', and in developing preventive measures
to safeguard their health. It is a magnificent and
unprecedented record.
There is, however, an all-important phase of this
which we haven't encountered, except in passing,
and that is one very close to the folk on the homo
front — rehabilitation of the ill and wounded. Re-
habilitation aims at the restoration of the earning
capacity of the disabled man. But, as the Medical
Depai'tmont points out, this implies more than good
medical treatment.
It is not enough to provide medical and surgical
care promptly in an eifort to save life and to re-
store health. The coryjs maintains that there is a
larger obligation to ease mental suffering and to
restore the individual to a full and useful life. Re-
habilitation may be begun in the Army hospitals, but
it must be continued after the discharge of soldiers
— and it must be helped by the family and friends
of the handicapped man.
Tlie vast majority of our boys who have been
hurt in battle recover completely. They pcrliaps
bear scars, which serve as handsome ba<iges of
honor, but physically and mentally they are as good
or better than when they went away to the \\\rs.
Possibly their attitude toward life has changed in
some ways, but certainly many of them are in bet-
ter health and have developed poise and confidence.
Unhappily, tliere is another class which fortune
has handled roughly and sometimes brutally. These
are the men who have sustained permanent hurts.
Despite the swift and highly skilled medical treat-
ment in the theatres of war, wounds sometimes
cripple or cause prolonged invalidism, with accom-
panying distress of mind.
"Often the deepest wounds — those hardest to
heal^are of tlie spirit," we are told by the Surgeon
General's office. "It is essential, therefore, that
medical treatment attempt to alleviate mental an-
guish and to supply the information and guidance
necessary to insure the handicapped that he can
and will be self-sufficient and economically inde-
pendent.
"Most difficult to dispel is the emotional despair
of the blinded, the feeling of aloneness of the deaf
mute, or the bitter resentment against a cruel Fate
that has allowed one youth to be armless, legless,
or otherwise disfigured when so many of his com-
panions suffered comparatively minor discomforts
liiat could be quickly forgotten.
"Initially the disabled soldier shares the common
belief that disablement means a complete wreck of
all hope for success. Therefore, rehabihtation must
combat misinformation and create assurance that
life can still be satisfying and successful."
The Army Medical Corps has flung all its tre-
mendous resources into the solution of this compli-
cated problem. The corps has devoted itself to the
rehabilitation of every man who possibly can be
restored to his place in society.
This reconditioning starts when the wounded man
receives his early treatment in the battle zone, or
when the sick soldier is hospitalized, and it con-
tinues until there is nothing more which medical
science can do. The most severe cases, which can't
be restored to normal by treatment in the hospitals
of the war theatres, are returned to the United States
where the fight to rehabilitate them is carried on.
The corps has been able to work miracles, but
there is another important factor in the restoration
of the wounded soldier and that is the attitude of
the people back home. If that is incorrect— if his
friends and relatives assume that his case is hope-
less and shower him with excessive sympathy — it
can do untold damage which all the medical treat-
ment in the world cannot offset.
Surgeon General Kirk, after a tour of European
battlefields, made a public statement which went into
the subject of rehabilitation and the attitude of the
home-front, with the blunt and colorful approach
which he employs. He referred to the various steps
in handling the wounded, from the firing line to the
general hospital in the United States, and compared
the ev;)cuation of the injured to "a long conveyor
belt." Dealing with the man who had reached the
end of this belt in the United States and had been
discharged from the Army, General Kirk said:
"He may have lost an arm or a leg. He may have
lost both arms or both legs. His face or head may be
disfigured. He may be a nervous wreck from battle
fatigue and labeled psychoneurotic or psychotic.
44
But no matter what his condition is, 1 want to as-
sure you that he will get the best care that medical
science can provide.
"All along the line oi' this medical conveyor belt
he has received treatment. His spirit has been de-
veloped. He has put his dependence upon the doc-
tors and the nurses. He has seen others with pos-
sibly more serious wounds get well.
"He learns to take the loss of an arm, leg, eye or
disfigurement, in stride. He believes he will soon
be well to do a job and has complete confidence in
what the doctors and nurses toll him. That this con-
iideJice is not misjjlaced is shown by the fact that
about 97 per cent of those wounded who reach Army
hospitals get well.
"The amputee is happy with others like himself.
He is furnished a prosthesis (artificial substitute)
and tfuight how to use it. The blinded man is taught
to be self-reliant. Plastic surgery takes care of the
facial disfigurement. His morale is high. He is ready
to face the world. And then what happens?
**Whcn he sees his mother she breaks down and
cries. When lie walks down the public streets he is
the subject of morbid curiosity. AVhen he boards the
street car someone tries to help him. These are the
things that destroy his self-confidence and the work
of months is sometimes undone in minutes.
"The wounded soldier does not want sympathy.
Neither does he want charity. Legislation and the
grant of funds, embellished by bally-hoo, is not the
answer to making him a useful citzen. He wants to
be self-supporting and self-reliant. Tt is only hu-
mnnitarian to subsidize him 'u\ accordance with his
handicap, but he does not want pity, gratuities, or
sob-sister aid.
"Many of these men when properly trained have
a higher earning power than wdien they enter-ed the
Army. They are normal beings and they want to be
treated as normal beings.
"Now let us take a look at the psychoneurotic
case. First of all the term is widely misunderstood.
The public confuses the term with psychosis and
immediately labels him crazy.
"There is nothing mysterious about psychoneu-
rosis. Tt does not mean insanity. It is a medical
term used for nervous disorders. It manifests itself
by tenseness, worry, irritability, sleeplessness, loss
of self-confidence or by fears or over-concern about
one's health.
"A great many of these symptoms are manifested
by people in civilian life to a greater or less degree.
You are all familiar Avith the chronic complainer.
Nearly everyone has some idiosyncrasy about
health. In spite of all this, the psychoneurotic in
civilian life is not labeled nor does he have difficulty
in carrying on his business. Some of our most suc-
cessful business and political leaders were psycho-
neurotic.
"But put that successful psychoneurotic busi-
ness man into the Army and the doctors immediately
have a problem on their hands. Our Army is for the
most part a civilian army. The majorily of our sol-
diers have had no jjivvious military training. Our
citizens have not been regimented. They are used
to a beauty-rest mattress and private bath and all
{>f tlie other conveniences that have made our Amer-
ican way of life so desirable. Sinne of these men are
pampered by over-indulgent mothers and co-work-
ers from early morning to late at night.
"When this type of person is put into the Army
he has a lot of adjustments to make. He becomes
part of a vast machine that is regulated like clock-
work. His job becomes an important part of an over-
all job. He is not always in a position to know the
ultimate objective of his work, so he starts to worry
abt)ut it.
"He has other adjustments to make. There is mass
feeding. Often he is on K rations. Sometimes he has
no rations and he has to shift for himself. There is
mass sleeping and the man next to him snores. Un-
familiar sounds (.llstnrii his slee]). On maneuvers he
has to sleep on the ground, and on the battlefront
he may not ge\ any sleep for hours at a stretch.
Those are all disturbing elements to him.
"Under all of these conditions it is difficult for
him to adjust. It's ha?-d enough for a rugged, hardy
individual to adjust, let alone a man with psycho-
neurotic tendencies. Therefore the nervously in-
clined individual who was a success in civilian life,
fails in the Army and receives a discharge.
"We also have the moron, the mental defective
and the constitutional psychoitath to deal with. We
get the alcoholic, the pathological liar and the pre-
criminal in the Army. We have Ihe boy who has
been a failure all his life. He is a problem child at
home and his school and occupational records have
always been poor. Very few of these men ever make
good soldiers.
"Then we have the nearly normal individual who
cracks under combat. Everyone has his limit of
mental and physical endurance. A man can stand
just so much. Put him in combat and under pi-o-
longed shelling and bombing, combined with poor
rations, sometimes none at all, antl he becomes a
casualty.
"It's not the first time strong men have broken
down after giving what it takes !
"AVe may have as many of this type of casualty
as we do physically wounded, and the cycle of nie<li-
cal care for him starts immediately. If he ch»es not
return to active duty within a reasonable time after
treatment he is brought b;ick to the United Stales
and after reconditioning may be discharged.
"Reconditioning consists of three phases — physi-
cal, educational and occupational. All patients in the
Army Service Forces hospitals are included in the
45
program except those acutely or seriously ill. The
bod patieut is giveu oricutation and education in
addition to physical bed exercises or occupational
bed handicraft. As he increases to a ward ambulant
staji:e, these activilies are intensified. The program
is progressive thi-ough all stages of convalescence
and })alai]ccd so that no one phase is over-empha-
sized. Thus, if he is to be discharged, he is ready to
uiukniake the occupational training offered by the
Veterans' Administration or go into his former job.
"The most important thing which friends and
relatives of the disabled veterans can do is to treat
them naturally — treat them as normal men. Atten-
tion should not be forced upon them. People should
not shudder at their afflictions and they should not
be gushed over.
"These men are hypersensitive. If they have lost
an eye, or an arm or a leg they may feel, if friends
or relatives unwittingly encourage that feeling, that
the bottom has dropped out of the world they knew.
But that isn't true. We all know men and women
who have successfully overcome grave difficulties
and have lived useful lives.
"Give him some sympathy, sure. The injured man
needs to know that liis family and friends care for
him. That is %^ery important. But they must also
know that this soldier is no longer 'a boy' except to
Jiis mother who will always think he is, and he
should not be so treated.
"Through training and leadership, he was, when
wounded, a soldier — a soldier who could give and
take — lick the best the enemy could offer. In other
words he was a courageous, mentally and physically
fit man. Don't ever let him lose this fighting spirit.
"The wounded soldier must be allowed to do
things for himself. If he finds he can tie hfs own tie,
or lace his own shoes, it is much better that he do it
than that it be done for him. He must discover that,
despite his handicap, he can do these and other
things to give himself confidence and self-respect.
"Parents, relatives and friends should not at-
tempt to minimize the results of his injury. They
must be realistic and honest. They should not tell
him that he looks fine when he doesn't. But they
can tell him he'll soon be as good as new.
"These wounded and disabled service men have
no desire to bo martyrs. They don't want to be
treated as heroes. They have rendered a great serv-
ice to our country. They have made a great sacrifice.
"So a great responsibility rests on the public.
Public behavior has got to be adjusted so that by
ill-considered actions additional handicaps are not
placed upon the disabled soldier. On the other hand,
by intelligent understanding of their problems and
needs the public eau help them along the road to
success and happiness."
Men needing jjhysical reconditioning certainly
have every reason to hope that excellent results will
be achieved, owing to the tremendous advance in
medicine and surgery as a result of war experi-
ences. For example, take deformities of the^ face
which are the cause of so much mental distress to
the injured man. New and better procedures have
been developed in plastic surgery, and disfigure-
ments are almost totally eliminated in many cases.
The same thing holds true of other blemishes — say
of the hands.
Then there is the man who has lost a limb, or
perhaps two. Artificial limbs are being made so
amazingly well that many users of them can hold
their own in a great diversity of jobs with mi'n who
have no physical handicap. Moreover, following the
suggestion of Surgeon General Kirk, the National
Eesearch Council set to work to create artificial
limbs superior even to the very excellent ones at
present in use. These new prosthetic appliances are
expected to be the best in the world.
The number of men who have been blinded in
both eyes fortunately is comparatively small. Where
one eye has been lost we have the new artificial eye
mentioned in a previous chapter. This is made from
acrylic resin instead of glass and is a great improve-
ment over tlte old type. It is much lighter, fits per-
fectly and — best of all — is very life-like.
For each of those who have suffered the grave
disability of total blindness, the Army provides
medical care and surgery by specialists, a voca-
tional training program and a chance for further
education. The Valley Forge General Hospital,
Pennsylvania, and Old Farms Convalescent Hos-
pital, Avon, Connecticut, are representative centers
for the rehabilitation of blinded veterans. Delicate
operations restore sight to some of the boys, but
those who are beyond this typo of help are educated
so that they will be able to gain the skill and con-
fidence whereby they can adjust themselves to their
new life.
This educational work is carried out not only by
aides Avho have normal eyesight but by others who
are totally blind and have overcome their handicap.
The sightless soldiers are taught to see with their
minds and hands. This helps them to conquer the
fears which beset them when first they are plunged
into total darkness. As a matter of fact they acquire
an acuteness of the remaining senses which may
even make them superior in some respects to the
person who can see.
The objective of the educational course is to re-
move the blinded man's five fears — fear of dark-
ness, fear of failure to be accepted by family and
friends, fear of moving about, fear of impaired
earning power, and fear of being unable to occupy
his spare time. One of the first things in the educa-
tion of the newly blinded patient is to teach him
such simple things as arranging toilet articles,
shaving, telling the time with Braille watches, and
-16
finding his way about tlie hospital. Much of this
teaching may be done by a blind man. The student
naturally doesn't learn his lesson without some
knocks, for in trying to move about he runs into
obstacles or blind comrades, but all this is met in a
spirit of banter which bolsters morale.
As soon as the blinded man passes the prelimi-
nary stage of adjustment he is sent home on fur-
lough to get re-acquainted with the relatives and
friends whom he can't see, and Avith familiar haunts.
After that experience he is taken back to his train-
ing center to continue his education. This inelutles
such things as the reading of Braille, touch type-
writing and craft work. This rehabilitation coni-se
is being enlarged.
There is another program for men who have been
deafened. Tliis is compulsoi-}', wli(n*eas after the
last war it was on a voluntary basis, and so the
afflicted man isn't permitted to resume tlie battle of
life in the midst of tliat terrible loneliness which
surrounds ihose who cannot hear.
There are three centers syjecially provided for
handling the deaf. These are the Deshon General
Hospital a1 Butler, Pennsylvania; the Borden Gen-
eral Hospital at Ohickaslia, Oklahoma, and the Hoif
General Hospital at Santa Barbara, California.
Army doctors say the program represents the most
hopeful attack ever made on the problems involved
in deafness.
All types of the most up-to-date li?aring devices
are available so that Iho patient may be fitted by
scientific tests. For tliose who are bey; nd such
mechanical aid the first thing tlie doctors have to
do is to overcome the defeatist psychology of deaf-
ness and make the patient understand Uiat his
handicap definitely can be mastered.
Among other things a new method of teaching
lip-reading has been initiated. The patients ai'c
shown motion pictures of such common incidents
as a man making purchases in a grocers- store or
sitting down to a meal with his family. These movies
help the lip-reader to take in a situation as a whole.
Most men are fairly proficient in lip-reading by the
time they have covered the short basic course of
some 35 lessons which run half an hour each.
These are a few of the highlights in the physical
and psychological rehabilitation of the war veteran.
This rehabilitation lias been characterized by Major
General David N. W. Grant, the Air Surgeon, as
"the greatest challenge which faces the medical pro-
fession today." General Grant also has given us a
striking message which he feels "that the physician,
the relatives, the friends, the employer, and the
community of the war veteran should hear." Speak-
ing with special reference to the air corps, but in
terms which apply equally to any fighliiig man, Gen-
eral Grant savs :
"Whether he (the war veteran) is labeled a neu-
ropsychiatric casualty, or is discharged for some
other reason, or is merely home on leave, any dif-
ferences in his behavior probably comprise a hang-
over from his normal reactions to an abnormal way
of living and dying.
"What war has done is call upon this individual
to accept the abnormal idea that self-preservation
is less important than self-sacrifice — that there is a
distinction between killing a man in peacetiine and
killing him in war. Conditioned throughout his
formative years to seek security and comfort, to
love peace and freedom, the raw recruit is quickly
and brutally exposed to a system which, first in
training and then in combat, subordinates his per-
sonal security to tliat of the group, continually re-
places comfort with hardship and strain, otfers him
peace oidy as the distant reward for making war,
and denies that freedom is preferable to autliori-
tarian discipline and regulation.
"It is difficult for the individual to adajit himself
to this military deflation of his ego, to this superim-
position of the group ego on, and frequently against,
his will. All men are alike in that they have feelings
and in that these feelings may rmi into emotional
conflict with other feelings which are equally ac-
ceptable.
"Can those soldiers who have faced tensions and
stresses far beyond any peacetime demand upon
their organism be regarded as mentally suspect be-
cause they carry the anxieties they have develoi)ed
in combat back home with them? You know the
answer is no.
"These men have been poured into a mold, the
mold of war, and to remove them from it requires
adjustments as profound as those they were forced
to make when they changed from civilian to mili-
tary environment. They present all degrees of diffi-
culty in adjusting to the peaceful, prosaic and trivial
circumstances of home life after learning to live in
a fighting group which so orders their life that it
can give all or take all with one word from one
commander.
"One man — flexible, resilient — may come home,
take his wife on a fishing trip and settle down to
being 'good old Bill' again without so much as a
harsh word. Things are different, but he can 'sweat'
anything out. Another high-strung race-horse of a
man perhaps finds that the releases he found in
com.bat are boiling over in hostility toward his
mother's solicitation, or in a desire to punch the
nose of everv civilian he sees on the street.
"This is the challenge we face each time a war
veteran returns hom? — to see that he has full op-
portunity to spring bad' to his original personality
curve.
"Given a little time and a little help, most of
them will."
47
o
/
MEN WITHOUT GUNS
1. JUNGLE— ALLY OF THE ENEMY— Franklin Boggs. The
tropical jungles of the South Pacific are aligned on the side of the Japs.
Infested with malaria, strange tropical fevers and s}{in diseases heretofore
unknown to the occidentdl world, these jungles constitute a formidable
harrier protecting our Japanese enemies. When they are not busy attending
wounded men, the medics move around through the jungie with a bottle of
solution and a swab, checking the ravages of prevalent si{in disease.
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3. PACIFIC BLACK DIAMONDS— Franklin Boggs. These men of Hew Guinea played an iynportant
part in the evacuation of the wounded and the rescue of downed airmen. Their uncanny ability to traverse the
dense jungles rapidly and stealthily and their innate kindness meant the difference between life and death for
many a veteran of South Pacific fighting.
2. NIGHT DUTY— Franklin Boggs. An Army
nurse breal{s the monotonous vigil of night duty by mak-
ing a checl[ on a coughing patient. Artist Boggs slept in
this ward in the South Pacific — was strucl{ by the eerie
effect of a flashlight^s beam on the green mosquito nets
which shroud the sleeping u;ounded. He reported: 'The
light sounds of the jungle cannot be painted, hut are
>iMte unforgettable."'
4. PILL CALL— Franklin Boggs.
Soldiers suffering from malaria get
their daily quota of atabrine tablets
from the Medical Corps captain.
Artist Boggs caught this scene in the
South Pacific, The temporary coloring
of the patients'' s\in, he explains, is
''more vivid than that of the enemy
who controls tlie quinine.""
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5. END OF A BUSY DAY — Franklin Boggs. Bloodstained litters give mute and shockyng testi-
mony of the fierceness of tlie struggle — gruesome evidence of a busy day for the hearers of wounded and dying
men. Washing these litters m the salty water of the South Pacific — -salt water does the best cleansing job — is one
of the many unpleasant chores assigned to enhsted men of the Medical Corps. But litters must he clean for to-
•mnrrnm ami. innrf ■mpn
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6. FRONT-LINE SURGERY— John Steuart Curry. Highly mobile surgical teams attached to field
hospitals have made front-lme surgery a reality in this war. Blood plasma, the sulfa drugs and penicilUn are great
life-savers, hut Major General ^lormayi T. Kir((, the Surgeon General of the Army, says they are '^essentially
adjuncts to the prime requirement — skilled surgeons qualified to apply the latest and most modern techniques."
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7- COLLECTING STATION—
John Steuart Curry. After hast}/ ex'
dmindtion dnci emergency treatment
at the Battalion Aid Station, which is
right behind the hattlt \\nts, voound^cd,
ratn are brought to the Collecting
Station j a mile or more to the rear.
Here the)? are given additional emer^
gency treatment pending another trip
to the rear to the Clearing Station.
This picture was found b)' the artist
at Camp Bar\€l€y, Texas ^ where
hiedical Department tactical units
are framed.
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8. STEEL COFFIN — Fred Shane. A wounded man in a burning or stalled tan\ is in a desperate plight. It
is not easy for able-bodied men to mal^e a hurried exit from a disabled tanl^ under fire — almost impossible for a
badly wounded man. At the Medical Department's Field Service School, Carlisle, Pennsylvania, the "medics"
are taught how to lift an injured soldier from a land battleship. The Medical Corps is explaining the rescue
techniques to the bleacherites. Xote the special harness used to lift the "casualty' through the conning tower open-
ing. Viewer tan\s have escape hatches near the bottom, simplifying the getaway.
9. AIR EVACUATION — Franklin Boggs. High over the Owen Stanley mountains a flight nurse ad-
ministers oxygen to a wounded soldier. The plane is hound for Australia, next stop on the long journey to the
United States and a general hospital near home. Only hours before^ this same plane had arrived in the battle
area with a had of ammunition or medical supplies.
10. RETURN TO THE GOLDEN GATE -Franklin Boggs. Wounded men aboard an Army transport
crowd the rail for the first joyous glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge. The excitement on decl{ quicl{ly pervades the
entire ship^ and from a ward below decl^s a paralyzed patient succumbs to the infectious gaiety of his buddies,
hitch-hil^es topside on the sturdy bacl{ of a corpsman. These ships are outfitted with operating room, dental clinic
— amply provided with medical supplies and adequately stajfed by Army doctors and nurses.
11. RACE AGAINST DEATH —
Franklin Boggs. In this Japanese piU-box site
on Admiralty Island, which hut a few hours
before had been spoutiyig death and injury.
Army doctors have set up a front-line emer-
gency operating unit. Artist Boggs' brush con-
veys the devastating tempo of invasion warfare.
Crisis, speed, grimness, reality, mercy are
registered here in rapid bewildering succession.
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12. SOUTH SEA ISLAND PARADISE —Franklin Boggs. Stately ^alms swaying gently m the breeze,
eternally green foliage, white sandy beaches \issed by warm chameleon waters, straw's\irted hula girls — the
average American pre-war conception of life in the South Pacific. This 1944 version b}i Artist Boggs features
uprooted, broi{en palms, a discarded plasma bottle, bloodsoa\ed bandage, empty first-aid tins and spent syrette —
signs of mercy once meted out by men of the Medical Corps,
13. THE AMERICAN WAY-^Franklin Boggs. A
frantic, bewildered mother dogs the footsteps of a Medc
cal Corpsman in the Admiralty Islands as he carries
her wourided child away fro^n the combat area. Emer-
gency treatment has been given at a Battalion Aid Sta-
tion— --more definitive care at the hands of expert Army
doctors ivill folloiv.
14. UP TO DOWN UNDER— Franklin Boggs. Wounded Australian soldiers are being loaded aboard a
big Army transport plane for the long flight aver J^ew Guinea's Owen Stanley mountains to the land of the
}{angaroo. Thousands of wounded Americans and Aussies were evacuated by air. Crude flying fields and in'
cessant tropical rains added greatly to the ei'ocuation problem.
15. SOUP'S ON— Fred Shane. Mess halls
and dishes are left behind when Medical De-
partment soldiers go on maneuvers at the
Army's Field Service School in Carlisle, Penn-
sylvania. It is just as important that they learn
how to get their chow on the fly as it is that
they master the art of handling ''' wounded''''
under battle conditions. This lieutenant dis-
plays fine technique m the presentation, of his
mess \it and cover to the K.P. dishing out the
groceries.
16. TIME OUT FOR CHOW— Fred Shane. Medical Department soldiers at the Army's Field Service
ScJiooi, Carlisle^ Pennsylvania, grab a bite during war maneuvers. These men carry no guns — are armed only
with emergency bandages, sulfa, and pain-relieinng drugs. It is their job to pic\ up wounded men, almost as soon
as they are hit, and rush them baci{ to waiting Army doctors at Battalion Aid Stations.
17. HIDING OUT — Fred Shane. Somewhere at the 'Jront" at the Medical Department Field Service School,
Carlisle, Pennsylvania, medical soldiers in training cover their ambulance with camouflage netting. This is a
rendezvous spot, and here the ambulance will wait until litter-bearers bring haci{ the ''''wounded^'' for a fast ride
to Army doctors.
18. QUICK TREATMENT—
Fred Shane. This is a Battalion Aid
Station right behind the "/ront" at
the Medical Department s Field
Service School, Carlisle, Pennsylvw
nia. The ""u^oujided" soldier is getting
emergency medical attention prelim-
inary to his removal to a Collecting
Station farther hac}{ where more ad-
vanced treatment will he adminis-
tered. The Army's medical soldiers
at Carlisle are thoroughly trained—
}{now just what to do when they get
into action.
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19. MEDICAl. SUPPLY DUMP— Robert Benney. It was very thoughtful ofHirohito^s Utile men to leave
this spacious dugout undamaged when they departed for their Japanese Heaven. The great Pacific outdoors isn't
the best place in the world to store perishable medical supplies, so this readyynade emergency storeroom came
m very handy. Artist Benney visited this medical hideout while at a Pacific island base.
20. "EASY, JOE"— Robert Benney.
21. SICK BAY — Robert Benney. While aboard an invasion-bound ship in the South Pactjic Artist Benney
paid a visit to the sic\ hay. The ship's doctor prescribes for minor ailments — \eeps the men in good shape for the
ianding soon to come.
I
22. PACIFIC BASE HOSPITAL— Robert Benney. In sharp contrast to the hnsttly constructed and highly
maneuverahle medical units of front-hne combat, are the nmnerous rear echelon hospitals scattered throughout
the vast Pacific. Here, m the cool and quiet atmosphere far from the battle, a man has time to reflect, while his
wounded body is made well and strong again.
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23. SAIPAN, JULY, 1944-
Robert Benney.
24. JAP COMPOUND IN SAIPAN—
Robert Benney. An Army doctor handagts
the head of a Jap civilian in Saipan while other
subjects of the Mikado line up for medical
attention.
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25. NORMANDY VICTORY CARGO— Lawrence Beall Smith. When the lst's returned to the Enghsh
ports of embarkation, they carried wounded from the Hormandy beach-heads. In order to avoid the enormous
confusion of two-way traffic at the docks these ships were met by the smaller lot's out in the harbor. The ships
were "married, ' and litter hearers transferred the casualties. When an lct was filled, it headed for the beach
and waiting ambulances.
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26. SUNDAY IN NORMANDY— Lawrence Beall Smith. Eyilisted
men of a Collecting Station of the First Army "diggmg in" next to a church
in a tiny village near St. Lo, Little was left of the hurned-out village when
this outfit arrived. The men were \€pt busy during periods of heavy activity
setting up tents, treating the wounded and evacuating them by ambulance
10 clearing stations m the rear. Shortly after Artist Smith reached the spot,
the Germans counter- attacJ^ed from their lines 800 yards distant, and all
equipment and icounded had to he removed rapidly?.
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27- RETURN CARGO— Lawrence Beall Smith,
The huge tan\ dec\s of the lsts were carpeted with litter
cases when they hac\ed off the Jslormandy beaches for the
dash hac}{ to the white cliffs of Dover. Weather, mines
and German ''£'' boats impeded the progress of the
ships^ and sotnetimes wounded men spent many long,
miserable hours aboard before reaching the comparative
safety of England's shores.
I
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28. LABORATORY WARFARE— Manuel Toiegian. The ArmyMedicalDepartments war on disease
is constant mid unrelenting. The Army's laboratories are the battlefields, with Army doctors and nurses pitted
against germs, microbes, and other pathogenic bacteria. Artist Toiegian s brush found this picture at Camp
White, Oregon, former training center for members of the Army J^Jurse Corps.
29. LIFE-GIVING PLASMA — Ernest Fiene. Blood (ylasmahas been one of the foremost Ufesavers of World
War 11. Artist Fiene''s brush brings this picture from one of the great laboratories where plasma is processed for
the Army Medical Department. The technician is drawing off the plasma from the blood cells. It is a delicate
operation, performed under tfie strictest aseptic conditions. Dried plasma inust be free from all blood cells and
any contam inariTig bacteria. The small bottles in the foreground show the plasma at the top, the blood cells {darlO
at the bottotn.
30. JUNGLE TRAIL — Franklin Boggs. Through the unfriendly, tightlyi^mt H^w Guinea jungle an Army
Medical Corps unit threads its tortuous way inland, loaded down with the bac\-hrea}{ing coynponents of a port'
able hospital. The hlac!{, tousled heads of the ;ungle-u;ise natives bob evenly along in strtk}ng contrast to the
bended hac}{s and bowed helmets of the corpsmen. Units lil^e this crawled for endless, miserable days over the
Owen Stanley mountains.
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Si. EVACUATION UNDER FIRE—
Franklin Boggs. Immediately after driving the }{if)S
from entrenched positions on this Admiralty Island hilU
side, a Medical Corps unit set up this Battalion Aid
Station in the sheltering scarp of the sharp-rising \nolL
Men on the ridge dig in for protection against the stub'
horn Japs who give ground grudgingly. Wounded in the
hac}{ and pelvis, the tnan on the incoming litter sec}{s
relief from his painful injuries by l^eeling.
32. ANOPHELES HOME FRONT—
Franklin Boggs. Breeding grounds of the Anopheles
mosquito in J^ew Guinea are invaded hy a Sanitary
Corps Officer and squad of energetic grass-cutting na-
lives. The Anopheles is the carrier of malaria, formid-
able enemy of American troops in the tropics. The Army
Medical Department wages ceaseless, untiring war
against malaria — not the least important phase being
control of mosquito breeding areas.
34. NATIVE CASUALTY—
Franklin Boggs. A }iew Guinea native gets
some American emergency treatment after he
ing injured by a falling upright during the con-
struction of a hospital ward. They were twining
worl^ers and of immeasurable help to the Sea-
bees and Army Engineers.
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33. BATTALION AID STATION — Franklm Boggs. The men pictured here by Artist Boggs are receiving
emergency treatment at a front-line Battalion Aid Station {Papa Toll Mission, Admiralty Islands) a few minutes
after being hit. One man is getting plasma while another has his arm bandaged and treated with sulfa. In the
lower left a wounded man tries to lift himself up m his Utter as the effects of morphine begm to wear off.
35. VISITING HOUR— Franklin Boggs. In the early phases of the X[ew Guinea jighting, native houses were
used as hospitals for wounded and sic\ men. Civilization has no monopoly on l^ndness to the sic\. This native
brought jiowers every day to his new-found American friends.
36. TRAIN FARE— Robert Benney. Believe it or
not. It's icecream! Just one of the delicacies served to our
wounded men while they travel across the country on
one of the Army Medical Department s Hospital Trains.
This careful study by Artist Benney betrays the indelible
imprint of war on the boy''s face. A year ago, perhaps,
a dish of ice creayn would have brought a smile to youth-
ful eyes -not now.
I
37. SHORT CUT TO LIFE— Robert Benney.
The lives of many wounded men in Saipan were saved
by the fast diagnoses of this front-line X--ray unit, word-
ing in an abandoned Jap shac\. In the cases of severely
wounded, the difference between life and death was
measured in seconds. This fast-moving unit turned out
an X-ray plate every two minutes. The Army doctor
studies an X-ray of a man who is on his way to the
operating tent, as two other ivounded men await their
turn on tlie X-ray table.
38. HOSPITAL TRAIN CHEF— Robert Benney.
The boys do not have to he introduced to the trams
jovial coo}{. They just \now that his name is "S/(mn>i" —
and that's what they call him. ''Skjnny^ typifies the j^ind
of chow he serves — nothing but the best for the best.
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39. NIGHT RENDEZVOUS — Robert Benney. Somewhere on the cold, wind-swept plains of Kansas, the
Hospital Tram \eeps a tryst with waiting ambulances. Swiftly, quietly, carefully, wounded men are transferred
from the tram to the ambulances for the trip to one of the Army's great General Hospitals. Light for the worl{ at
hand is provided by the automobile headlights which l^ife their way through the biacl^ness. Through unsympa-
thetic clouds, a frustrated, faltering moon tries to lend a hand — triei to send a message of cheer and hope to un'
happy ■men.
40. NIGHT VIGIL— Robert Benney. While the Hospital Train rolls
through the lonely night, the Army nurse checl{S the patients^ charts. Some
of the wounded men sleep soundly — others fitfully. To some the rhythmic
clicl{ety'dac}{ of the speeding wheels is a sweet lullaby to their hardened,
shell-blasted ears — to others a relentless reminder of bar}{ing machine guns.
At the far end of the car, the medical aidman \eeps an alert eye on hu
precious cargo.
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41. COMING HOME— Robert Benney. Every turn
of the Hospital Train s wheels brings this convalescing
soldier nearer to home and friends. For him, there have
been many days at the front, many more in the hospital
A gentleman and a soldier, he carries a cane mvolun-
tarily, but it will steady the faltering steps of a new leg.
42. CLIMATIC CASUALTY— Robert Benney.
Through the narrow doorway of an isolated compart-
ment aboard the Hospital T^ain, Artist Benney saw
this GI victim of a respiratory disease, one of many
ivho are unable to withstand drastic changes in climate
and living conditions. He is a casualty not of the enemy^s
making m the strictest sense.
43. WOUNDED ABOARD — Lawrence Beall Smith. Doctors, Medical Corpsmen and ambulances are
present for the ''"sweating in" of the returning mission. Coming in late in the day and often in the heavy weather
which hangs over Britain, any ship in the group which has wounded men aboard will drop red flares so that
medical aid will he on hand the minute the ship taxis to a stop.
44. DEATH OF A B-l7^ Lawrence Beall Smith. At dawn on a cold March morning, a B-l? too}{ off on a
long mission to Germany. It crashed on the yellow field of an English farm just a mile and a half away. Ten men
were blown to bits — all ten were on their first -mission. For hours, the doctors and Medical Corps-men carried
out the miserable and sic\ening job of huynan salvage. Artist Smith adds the followiyig to his canvas: "Though
the explosion of three one-thousand' pound bombs jolted us heavily bac}{ at the base, the hay stacks, wmdmill,
and trees were left undamaged adding a macabre touch to the scene. The jire was started by one of the engines
hurled through the woods.'''
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45. RETURN FROM MISSION—
Lawrence Beall Smith. Wounded member oj a Fortress
crew jxnally removed from the ship after the tortuous
return frorn mission. The only spot of color is the heated
suit, called a "biue hunny.'^ The electric cord attached
to the suit is rather symbolic of the mans complete breal{
with the lung machine of which he was an integral part
for ten hours.
46. HOSPITAL BOUND— Lawrence Beall Smith.
The removal of wounded from the air base by ambulance
to the nearest station hospital was carried out in a very
short space of time. Here casualties are leaving from the
medical stations at the air base. A farmer plows his
field nearby. The cloud of syno}{e is from burning oil on
one of the Fortress "'hardstands.''''
47. NORMANDY WASH— Lawrence Beall Smith.
The field hospitals, usually four to eight miles behind
the Imes, were often the scenes of contrast such as this
caught by Artist Smith's brush. Families moved bac\
into their shattered towns after the battle passed to live
amid Army installations of all \tnds. French chiidren
loitered around field hospitals asking for chewing gum
for themselves or cigarettes ^^pour papa." They carried
flowers — either as a friendly gesture or as a medium of
exchange. -
48. FIRESIDE COMFORT — Lawrence Beall Smith. Housed m Hissen huts, the station hos(yitals at the
mayiy English air bases were well equipped to care for wounded airmen fortunate enough to get home on a wing
and a prayer. The little English stoves J^e^t the huts comfortable, and groups such as this one depicted by Artist
Smith hovered over inany firesides.
49. SNOOKER— Lawrence Beall Smith. Playing
a game called Snooker at the Red Cross Club of a sta'
tion hospital. This subject had an amusing pool room
atmosphere.
50. "MEAT WAGON" POOL — Howard Baer. Jungle Garage —Motor pool of ambulances m Burma
jungle, Portable Surgical outfit "Meat Wagons" are what the boys call them.
,/
51. BURMA MUD— Howard Baer. Army Medical
Department ambulance bogged down on a Burma jungle
trail during the monsoon. During the rainy season many
trails became impassable for ambulances and medical
supply vehicles — supplies had to be ■moi.'ed forward by
pac\ trains and on the hacl^s of native carriers.
52. AMBULANCE, JUNGLE STYLE— Howard Baer. Chinese stretcher hearers in elephant grass,
Burma jungle. Sometimes these men carry the wounded as long as eight days before they can be hospitalized. Tou
can't over-estimate their endurance and courage.
53. SCANT SHELTER — Howard Baer. Chinese Medical Aid Station at the front lines in Burma jungle
within rifie and mortar fire range. Chinese stretcher hearen: carrying wounded m hac}{ground.
54. JUNGLE CHEATER— Howard Baer. Bahy
Piper Cub plane tal{cs aboard a wounded man at a small
clearing in the Burma jungle. These small planes can
get into and out of jungle holes with the agility of a bird.
They fly wounded men to surgical installations in an
hour, spanning mountain and jungle trails that it would
ta}{e native litter bearers two wee\s to traverse.
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55, FIELD HOSPITAL IN
TECHNICOLOR —
Howard Baer. A few hours before
Artist Baer came u^on this scene at
M^fitl^yind Airfield these colored para^
chutes, pitched as tents, floated from
the s}{ies with ammunition^ food and
medical supplies. Each type of supply
has its own distinctively colored chute.
Troops have td\en the airfield^ hut the
Japs still infest the jungle brush around
the edges. So Burma Surgeon Seagrave
found it practical to pitch his para-
chute tents on the airstrip. As he
operated (foreground), assisted by
Burmese nurses whom he had trained,
American fighter planes overhead
\ept the Japs in the surrounding brush
reasonably quiet.
56. MOON-LIGHT IN BURMA — Howard Baer. Army doctors operate on wounded American soldiers
through, the hot Burma night m a ceaseless, tireless struggle to save lives. The lush Burma foliage provides a perfect
asylum for this forward-area Portable Surgical Unit, but a moon-lit sl^y is no help. Army surgeons attached to
these portable units often operate continuously for 18 hours.
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57. JUNGLE HOSPITAL— Howard Baer. Evacuation hospital in Honh Burma jungle. This is the only
hospital which has American nurses m the Burma jungle. Thev do an excellent job.
58. ARTIST'S MODEL— Howard Baer. Wounded
American tan\ man. "I found that all the Avierican
wounded at the front showed no surprise at finding an
artist, and were compktdy cooperative when asi{ed to
pose, doing so with no seif'Consciousness,^' says Baer.
59. OPEN-AIR SURGERY— Howard Baer. Reception tent. Portable Surgical out/it, Burma jungk.
60. AID STATION—
Howard Baer. Parachute tent. Medi-
cal Aid Station, Tan\ Unit, Burma
jungle
61. MESS CALL— Lawrence Beall Smith. Station
hospitals in England were housed in many T^issen huts.
Ambulatory patients walked from their ward to the
Mess Hall carrying their own coffee cups. This hospital
was set in a wooded section, and the noise of the coof(s
oven competed with the constant roar of planes leaving
and returning from nearby bases.
62. AMATEUR EDGAR BERGEN—
Lawrence Beall Smith. This youthful patient in the
Orthopedic Ward of a station hospital in England was
an air casualty and as such had lots of company. He was
somewhat unusual, however, in that he was an amateur
ventriloquist who }{ept the whole ward amused by putting
words into the mouth of the tiny doll suspended ot'er his
bed. Here he is playing "bingo" with the other men in
the Ward in a game directed by a Red Cross girl.
^^■P^CK TRAIN IN CHINA — Howard Baer. Medical Department pac\ train bridges the mountain
wilderness which lies between American forces on the Salween River front and supply depot at a nearby air base.
Harrow ledges along the cliffs of the river canyon ma\e hazardous, stubborn trails which exact a heavy penalty
for a single misstep. Even the sure-footed, little Chinese horses must be coaxed and cajoled to carry on. Encum-
bered by heavy loads of plasma, sulfa drugs, penicillin and other medical supplies, the animals must be guided
carefully by the corpsmen.
64 DYING WOUNDED SOLDIER,
SALWEEN FRONT, CHINA—
Howard Baer.
65. CHINA LIFE LINE— Howard Baer. Chinese
stretcher hearers, familiar with ■mountain trails and
masters of tlie ruggeti terrain bordering upon the Burma
Road, carry American wounded from the Salween front.
The Utters are a native prodw:t, crude but comfortable.
The crosspicce spanning the Miter handles shifts some of
the load from the arms of the hearer to his broad, stout
hac\.
^, CHINA SUPPLY RENDEZVOUS— Howard Baer. Tsfe^tled m the deei> gorge 0/ the S^ilt^een Riuer,
guarded an^ sheltered b)^ mou^itamous overhanging c/i]f5, this tree-rimmed maiddn is an ideal supply relay site.
Tiny Piper Cubs bring food, medicme and other supplies to the Medical Department pac}{ trains which continue
to Salween front over precarious ledges s\irting the river canyon. The Cubs do not require large areas for landings
and ta}{e^offs — get away from this Salween oasis by flying upriver through the chasm in the background.
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67. JUNGLE WARD — Howard Baer. After operation hy a Portable Surgical outfit in the Burmese jungle,
the wounded rest in a ward tent awaiting evacuation to field hospitals.
68. JUNGLE OPERATING ROOM— Howard Baer. Medical Department surgeons of an advanced
field hospital m Burma lose no time in operating on wounded men to save an arm or a leg—or life, itself. The
Surgeon Generdi has ordered that there shall be no delay in giving men surgical attention because he \nows that
early surgery means a low niortaiity rate. Artist Baer found this jungle field hospital in a native "basha" com-
pletely enclosed by netting to protect patients from mosquitoes and other disedse-laden tropical insects.
69. TANK CASUALTY— Howard Baer. Amer-
ican tan}{ corps officer burned m engagement, Burma
jungle.
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70. NIGHT OPERATIONS- Howard Baer. Operating at nighc, Burma jungle, Vmtohk SmgicoX outjit.
71. PALS — Howard Baer. Americiin t&y\\ man u^ounded m an engagement m tht ^uima ;ung/e, coming out
of anesthesia; budd>i also wounded m same engagement watches anxiously.
72. FRIENDS AMBULANCE UNIT— Howard Baer. This unit, affilmted with the Chinese Red Cross
near Pashan, is down on Burma Road around 650 \m. mar\.
73. CASUALTY (a)— Howard Baer. Chinese
wounded hyjap officer's saber, receiving drop anesthesia-
74. CASUALTY (b)—
Howard Baer. Debridement of wound;
clearing away scar tissue.
75. CASUALTY (c)—
Howard Baer. Anesthetized patient
bandaged and carried by stretcher
with center hole to fracture table.
Stretcher is suspended by straps until
series of straps are attached to patient.
Then stretcher is lowered to ground.
This fracture table was designed b>i
Col. Seagrave in Ha}{awng Valley,
Burma.
76. CASUALTY (d)—
Howard Baer. Patient is being band-
aged with plaster rolls in order to
iminobilize the tissues for evacuation
to base hospital. This is done to pre-
vent hemorrhage during transit.
77- CONVALESCENTS — Howard Baer. Chinese wounded after operation, under overhanging mosquito
nets.
78. JUNGLE PATIENT — Howard Baer. Waiting for the surgeons, Burma jungle. Portable Surgical outfit.
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79. SELF-SERVICE IN SAIPAN^Robert Benney. Ambulatory patients wait upon themselves at this
Saipan patients' mess visited by Artist Benney. They have to wash their own m,ess J^its, too. In the foreground
two wounded soldiers enjoy an after^lunch siesta.
80. ISLAND HOSPITAL—
Robert Benney. Somewhere in the
South Pacific Artist Benney found
this cheerful^ neatfyturned ^iwnset
hut. It was a stop'Over spot for
wounded men headed for base hos"
pital in the rear.
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81. JUST OFF THE LINE — Robert Benney. This man has just been brought from the front line to a Col-
lecting Station. Although wounded less than an hour before, he has received medical attention three times. He
was given emergency treatment on the battlefield, had a splint put on his arm at a Battalion Aid Station, and
received a special dressing on his thigh at the Collecting Station. J^ext stop to the rear is the Clearing Station,
and more treatment.
82. TANK AMBULANCE AT SAIP AN— Robert Benney. An amphibious tan\ hrmgs a had of
wounded from an '^alligator'' aid station, near the remains of the city of Garapan, to waiting lst. What our own
guns did not destroy at the Battle of Garapan and Hill SOO was tal^en care of by the Japs^ who applied the torch
lavishly before giving up their capital. The utter exhaustion of the wounded men ma\es them seem indifferent to
the violent scenes of destruction so recently left behind.
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83. FLASHLIGHT SURGERY IN SAIPAN— Robert Benncy. Army doctors performing a delicate
brain operation continue doggedly by flashlight during a Jap plane raid on the hospital area. All power was shut
off when the raiders appeared, plunging the hospital buildings and tents into Stygian dar}{ness. In spots lii^e this
the poci{et flashlight is as important as the scalpel.
84. SAIPAN CASUALTY— Robert Benney.
85. FRIEND IN NEED— Robert Benney. An
American Red Cross representative in Saipan listens
to a tale of woe from an American soldier far from home
— ma}{es notes while the Gl tells his story. In ail proha-
hility the soldier is too busy fighting japs to write home,
has as\ed the Red Cross man to get a letter off for him.
Red Cross field workers in combat areas do much to
comfort our Jigfiting ?iien.
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87. "OPEN WIDE"— Howard Baer. Dental set-up. Portable Surgical out/it, Burma jungle.
86. SHOCK TENT— Robert Benney. The seriously
Wunded as well as those suffering battle fatigue are im-
mediately ta\en into the shoci{tent where plasma is con-
'■dy being admmistered during the tide of battle. At
^ as many as 40 or 50 men will receive plasma at
^iL' same time. The great thrill of seeing these men
•"Ought bac\ to Ii/e as the blood from fellow Americans
woustinds of miles away slowly drips into their veins is
* ''ight never to be forgotten, says Artist Benney.
88. JUNGLE VET — Howard Baer. Debridement of shrapnel iwund, U. S. Army Medical outjit with
Stilwell's forces in Burma.
89. OVER THE BUMPS — Howard Baer. Wounded men in ambulance being carried from aid station at
the front in Burma, to Portable Surgical outfit for operations.
90. BURMA AIR AMBULANCE—
Howard Baer. Sic^ and wounded men being evacuated
by plane froin the Burma fighting to a base hospital in
Assam. Their wizened scrawny bodies and forlorn faces
reflect the wretched existence from which the); flee. Many
of the flight nurses on these unarmed planes were former
airline stewardesses— pretty, brave, devoted to duty.
Japanese Zeros and obscure mountain pea^s combined
to mal{e this run a hazardous business.
91. DOUBLE DECK OF ACES— Robert Benney. The Ace on the floor is an eloquent hillof-ladmg for
this car of the Hospital Tram and its load of wounded soldiers. Artist Benney s brush has run the gamut of emo-
tions in this daytime scene. The card game has its }{ihitzers in choice upper tier seats. Down the aisle, men swap
combat stories, and at the window, a colored hero loo\s thani^fully at the good old V. S. A. landscape — home. In
front of him, a badly wounded man just loo\s — -and wonders.
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92. WAYLAID — Robert Benney. This hand of patriotic home-front
Americans waited long hours for the Hospital Train to arrive at the rail-
road operational stop where coal and water are ta}{en by the locomotive.
Even though the tram larder is spilling over with fine food, the wounded
men eagerly accept the homemade ca}{es and sandwiches from the family
\\tchens of the kindly, simple townfol^s. After all. Mother's cookies were
always best.
93. NURSE IN NEWFOUNDLAND — Joseph Hirsch. Army nurses on duty wherever there are American
troops are writing a glorious chapter in the history of World War U. Of this rustic winter scene. Artist Hirsch
has this to say: "There is nothing glamorous about the wor}{ tlie nurses do in J^ewfoundland; this nurse is going
to her post at 6 A.M."
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94. THE WAY BACK— Lawrence Beall Smith.
The scene portrayed here by Artist Synith was enacted
many tiynes after D-Day. Evacuation of casualties by
LST was accomplished successfully despite vicious at'
tac}{s by eneyny planes. This lst at Oynaha Beach dis^
gorged tan}{s^ truc\s^ men and supplies from her fiery
mouth J and before the dust^ synol^e arid gases from the
departed machines had cleared^ the long procession of
litter cases and wal\ing wounded filed into the ship for
the trip bac\ to England.
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95. TALKING IT OVER— Howard Baer. Buddhist temple convened into Chinese hospital 424 miles
from Kummmg. Adjacent to the American field hospital, where patients undergo operations.
96. MAKING TYPHOID VACCINE — Francis Criss. The Army produces its own typ]w\d vaccine in
its laboratories. It began developing typhoid vaccine in 1909, has pushed forward relentlessly smce in hmlAing
its defense against typhoid baciHus. Army lahoratories are capable of producing 1,500,000 doses in a single week}
During the Spanish-American War^ 14,000 out of ei'ery 100,000 soldiers contracted typhoid fever; in World
War I, only 37 men in every 100,000 got typhoid — in this war, typhoid is practically nonexistent.
97- SHOULDER WHEEL — Francis Criss. Physical therapy used in reconditioning of the wounded soldier
tildes many forms. The apparatus shown is a Shoulder Wheel. It is used for strengthening and developing the
long muscles of the shoulder and arm. These muscles may have become atrophied from disuse during convales-
cence. At the beginning of the treatment, the wheel runs freely — but as the muscles gain strength the teyision is
increased.
98. FRACTURE WARD— Peter Blume. A more complicated suh
ject could scarcely have heen selected by the artist. It is a study in almoii
pure mathematics with triangles predominating. Beginning with a set of
triangles as represented b)/ the ceiling, floor and walls, the artist has supa'
imposed other geometrical figures as represented by the fracture or "Bal^dit
Frames r ^'^d then not satisfied, has superimposed the traction cords. In
the hands of a lesser artist, such a tas}{ would result in confusiony hut
Mr. Blume has achieved clarity, dejinition, and has presented a fine record.
The handling of the drapery is especially interesting, and the bright colors
help to bring the composition into harmony rather than to further confuse it.
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99. NEURO-SURGERY — Marion Greenwood. Artny surgeons at the Medical Department's England
General Hospital, Atlantic Cit>i, perform a delicate nerve operation on a soldier who was severely wounded by
shrapnel in the European jightmg. The severed ulnar nerve is being spliced to overcome paraylsis of the arm.
100. SPEEDING RECOVERY — Marion Greenwood. Physical therapy plays an important and early
part in the restoration of American wounded, particularly those suffering from injuries to muscles, joints, hones
and nerves. It follows closely upon the heels of surgery —l{eeps muscles and tendons pliable while crushed or
severed nerves are being revived to feed thein with energy and control.
101. BEER FOR TWO — Marion Greenwood. Wounded soldiers undergoing treatment at England General
Hospital swap combat yarns over a quart bottle of beer at the PX {Post Exchange). The hospital PX is well-
stocked also with candy, ice cream, cd^e and assorted tidbits At the counter an Army nurse gets an impromptu
report from a Medical Corpsman.
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102. THE QUICK AND THE DEAD—Uwrence Beall Smith. The onct pamfui and slow Utter haul by
foot from Battalion Aid Stations is still painful, but thanl^s to the versatile jeep, is now mercifully short. Through
shell-torn roads still under fire, these vehicles mal{e the trip haci{ to the comparative safety of the Collecting Station
in a few minutes. The carcasses of dead cattle in the field and hedgerow ditches near St. Lo contributed a mute,
grim, and grotesque comment on mans ingenuity.
103. TENSION AT DAWN — Lawrence Beall Smith. The Flight Surgeon is ^^on the line" for the always
dramatic ta\e'OJf for mission over the Continent. One of the great dangers is explosion on take-off. Flame from
an engine^ even though usually temporary, is an unwelcome spot of color against an English dawn.
104. WOUNDED CREW MEMBER-
Lawrence Beall Smith. First aid treatment of wounded
crew member of Flying Fort immediately upon return
to base. This man was given emergency treatment by
crew members in the air.
105. PERSONAL MAGNETISM—
Joseph Hirsch. The galvanic principle of a mine detector
is here applied in the form of a foreign body locator which
expedites finding hits of shell fragments in the flesh.
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106. HOSPITAL FOR ALLIED WOUNDED Joseph Hirsch. An entire evacuation hospital m Africa
was given over to the care of wounded soldiers from artnies of our allies. In this picture French Moroccans while
away the time playing checi{ers. They proved themselves extraordinarily brave in the J^orth African fighting — -
worried more about losing their precious queues than their lives, for the hand of Allah lifts a dead Choum to
heaven by his queue.
107. HIGH VISIBILITY WRAP — Joseph Hirsch. The Army doctor left two very important openings in
this head bandage. The nedt triangular window gives the soldier good vision, and there is plenty of room for the
all-important cigaret.
108. WOUNDED BOY — Marion Greenwood.
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109. THE DENTAL FRONT — Marion Greenwood. There can he no doubt in the minds of these wounded
men at England General Hospital but that Sherman was right. With battlefields and enemy guns behind them,
they line up again for assault from an unexpected quarter. Miss Greenwood has caught the utter dejection written
upon their faces. But healthy teeth are reflected m a man's general physical condition. When a man is \ept in
good shape during convalescence, recovery is faster.
110. OCCUPATIONAL THERAPY — Marion Greenwood. With the aid of a special apparatus designed
to exercise his injured arm, this wounded man weaves a belt. Occupational therapy plays important part in the
rehabilitation of physically incapacitated I'eterans. By peeping the disabled mans mind occupied and off hts in'
firmity while teaching him a craft in a s\illful manner, occupational therapy serves a twofold purpose.
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ill. LEG WORK — Marion Greenwood. Advanced
Reconditioning. Pulley exercises for injured and para-
lyzed limbs.
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1 12. WOUNDED MAN WITH CRUTCHES
Marion Greenwood.
113. HEAD WOUND VICTIM -
Marion Greenwood. Study of soldier after hrain opera-
tion in which shrapnel was removed and metal plate
inserted.
114. X-RAY Of HEAD BEFORE OPERA-
TION — Marion Greenwood.
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115. MEN WITH GOD^Robert Benney. A jew rnvnutes before thishadly wounded Pacific campaigner suc-
cumbed to t}ie sting of a merciful needle he aslfed for the chaplain to come and pray with him. Froin American
battle fronts all over the world comes the ringmg message that there are no atheists in foxholes. To that ynessage
this canvas writes a. resounding "Amen." Two men of God —and a ^oo\.
116. AFTER THE FASCIST FAIR— Joseph Hirsch. Once upon a
time II Dvice held a Fascist festival in a great, white building in H(^plcs.
People from miles around came to the city to view the ambitious murals
and read the windy phrases of the bombastic Mussolini. But that was before
{"^rt ec-iv^f\ Jinn A An^rf-in .ht^+r%vj^ A -wn^viV-zTvi nntirfhrtnvc /^ii'inhi^n tih th^ It/lli/tvi
boot and chased the flatulent dictator toward Berlin. J^ow Mussolini s
propaganda palace is an evacuation hospital and the herocic figures on the
crumbling walls compete in vain with American pin-up girls for adoration
from Gi Joe.
117. TREATING A MULE — Joseph Hirsch. In this war of mechanized divisions and"dismounted" cavalry,
the chief function of the Veterinary Corps is the inspection of meat for our troops. But Artist Hirsch found this
traditional/ Army mule m Italy getting a dose of miyxeral oil. Pac\ mules frequently need a laxative when they
return from combat areas. A rubber tube is inserted in the animals nose, pushed down his gullet and the oil
pumped through. The mule doesn't lil{e it.
118. SO WHAT—Joseph Hirsch. Kipling said: 'It
was crawUn and it stun^" — this thirsty medic says.
'^So what!"
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1 IQ. FIELD EXAMINATION — ^Joseph Hirsch. Medical Corpsmen 'ma}{e a hasty examination of a soldier's
leg wound before carrying him to a Battalion Aid Station. The wound is a painful one as tfie tense expression of
the man indicates. A little "dope" will calm him down for the trip haci{ to the doctors.
120. NIGHT SHIFT — Joseph Hirsch. Hidden from snipers' bullets fj^i the dar\ness of an Italian night, the
medics bring in wounded infantryman. Although they are carrying their burden down a rocl^y^ slippery slope,
the corpsmen \eep the litter level at all times to ma\e the journey easier for the ifounded man. The rifle mal{es an
excellent emergency splint for a shot-up leg — an old battlefield tricl{ of the litter hearers. Carrying a loaded litter
over terrain too rugged even for pac}{ mules, taxes to the utmost the s}{ill and endurance of the corpsmen.
121. FRONT-LINE DENTIST— Joseph Hirsch.
The only \ind of drilling they do at the front — sometimes
within range of the enemy s howitzers.
122. SAFE — Joseph Hirsch. These little orphans }(rioiu
well that the Medical Corpsmen are the real liberators
from pain and hunger.
123. PARADISE NOT LOST— Joseph Hirsch.
Although he lost an arm in battle, this French Ghoum
from J^orth Africa is probably pleased that he did not
suffer a head injury which would have resulted in the
clipping of his queue to facilitate treatment. At death,
the hand of Allah will grasp the precious queue and lift
him to heaven.
124. WAR ON TYPHUS— Joseph Hirsch. Lice
squads^ organized by the Army Medical Department in
the J^aples area, led the Jight on typhus among tlie Italian
population. The dirty insanitary air raid shelters were
ideal breeding places. Constant count of louse eggs plus
plenty of DDT spraying powder saved thousands of
lives. The Italian civilians were willing helpers — had a
good time at the spraying sprees. A[ot one case of typhus
developed among American troops, thanks to the Medi-
cal Department s foresight in inoculating every soldier
against the disease.
125. ITALIAN RUSH HOUR— Joseph Hirsch. In this gay waia-
coXoftA cartoon Artist Hirsch skow^ how an Army ¥idd^ Hospital loo}{s as
It passes through the mam street of an Italian village en route to the Cassino
front. Careful mspectton of the picture will unearth many interesting side
lights^ such as the little hoy waving a greeting with the American flag and
the colored soldier with a hot platter under his arm.
127. MEDICAL MILLINERY— Joseph Hirsch.
This is a maxtllo-occipital traction appliance with a
modification for a fractured upper jaw. It is an ingenious
device obviating the necessity of more comphcated and
burdensome apphances. Pressure is maintained between
a plate on tlie roof of the mouth and a leather s}{uU cap.
The lower jaw is allowed complete freedom of moi'ement
and the patient can smo^e, drinl{, eat and tal}{ in reld'
live comfort.
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128. COMPANY IN THE PARLOR— Joseph Hirsch. The gaunt stone walls of an Italian farmhouse
provide scant shelter for a front-line Battalion Aid Station, but they do screen the activities of the missing farmer^ s
uniiitiiteti guests from the sharp eyes of enemy artillery spotters. Slill under fire, the medics perform their duties
with compleu disregard for their own safety. Their only precaution seems to be to have the man at the left \eep
his binoculars trained on enemy guns and their targets of the moment. The parlor wall shrme maizes an excellent
medicine cabinet for drugs and antiseptics.
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129. ALL ABOARD FOR HOME— Joseph Hirsch. One of the Army Medical Departments big hospital
ships ta\es on wounded men during typical rainy day in England. When the ship arrives in Hew Torl{, the men
will be ta\en in ambulances to an East Coast Debarkation Hospital, from where many of them will be sent by
hospital tram to interior general hospitals for specialized treatmait. Umbrellas are taboo in the Army, but
Artist Hirsch insists his paintmg is authentic to the minutest detail.
130. NON-COMBATANT —Joseph Hirsch. Artist Mirsch found this Medical Corps enlisted man and
his Utter on an Italian front.
131. EXERCISE PERIOD FOR WOUNDED— Marion Greenwood. These wounded men are deter-
mined, and their indomitable spirit is captured completely by Miss Greenwood's understanding brush. Despite
the handicap of painful wounds encased in heavy, clumsy casts they struggle courageously to carry out the exercise
routine prescribed for them. The Army Medical Department does not beliei'e in inactivity during hospitalization
— \nows that men who exercise regularly recover quicker.
132. SHOULDER WHEEL— Marion Greenwood.
Advanced Reconditioning following arm and shoulder
injuries.
133. STANDING^UP EXERCISES—
Marion Greenwood. Advanced Reconditioning, Home
made, simple devices made hy veterans have proven best.
Rollers are used for correcting an\ie injuries.
^■•
134. A TWIST OF THE WRIST—
Marion Greenwood. Advanced Reconditioning. Ap-
paratus for wrist exercises.
135. WHIRLPOOL BATH— Marion Greenwood.
Treatment for radial paralysis of left forearm.
136. GI GUTENBERG —Marion Greenwood. Oc-
cupational therapy — Printing Press exercise for limbs
and arms.
137. FINGLR EXERCISE— Marion Greenwood.
Modification of a Knaval Table.
The End
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